


Le Coeur de la Mer

by pfyre



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF, Titanic (1997) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Movie Fusion, RPS - Freeform, Romance, Slash, Suicide Attempt, Tissue Warning, Treasure Hunting, inspired by Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pfyre/pseuds/pfyre
Summary: Two people meet on the maiden voyage of the unsinkable ship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** This is a NC-17 (explicit) slash story. If love (physical and emotional) between two people of the same sex bothers you, do not read any further. Character death. I have been advised to add a 'Multiple Tissue' warning to this. You might want to have a few on hand just in case.

Sunlight filled the studio streaming from the skylights and the wall of windows that overlooked the garden. The room was cluttered with paintings, figurines, books, folk art and clay figures. Off to the side, out of the direct heat of the sun but with a full view of the garden beyond the glass, a potters wheel hummed. The soft red clay at its centre slowly taking form under the old hands that moved with surprising strength and fluidity for all their gnarled appearance.

The old man manipulating the pot nodded to a much younger companion who flipped a switch. As the wheel slowed, the sounds of the television in the livingroom filled the void. The two worked in easy concert to move the soft pot from the wheel onto a tray. Moments later, the old man settled on a comfortably padded stool at the nearby worktable.

"Do you need anything else?" A small dog got up and settled at the base of the stool, obviously joining its master.

"No." The old man shook his head. "I think I'm set for the moment, Liv. Thank you." The young woman nodded, pushed the rack of bottles filled with colored glazes so it would be within arm's reach, then she headed into the main part of the house. As he cleaned his hands, the man looked at the trays of pots before him and pulled one close.

He smiled to himself as he selected a couple of different glazes. The feel of the wet silky clay on his hands, the smell of the glazes, made him forget for the moment that he was old, ancient actually.

"...Treasure hunter Peter Jackson is best known for finding...."

The voice on the television hardly registered as he lost himself in blending the glazes to just the right tint.

"...is using deep submergence technology to work two and a half miles down at another famous wreck...."

He really had little to complain about, certainly he had his share of aches and pains, but that was to be expected when he had celebrated his 102nd birthday at the beginning of the year. His strength and stamina were not what they once were; the bout of pneumonia a year before had nearly killed him, but he was still here, mostly hale.

"...know, Titanic is not just A shipwreck, Titanic is THE shipwreck. It's the Mount Everest of shipwrecks...."

It took a moment, but the name caught his attention and the old man looked up as he absently wiped his hands.

Jackson led the camera crew into a room obviously used to catalogue and preserve recovered items. "I'd rather show you than tell you, and we think we're very close to doing just that."

Although bowed with age, the man walked steadily using his cane more for security than absolute necessity. His dark brown eyes were still sharp as he moved closer to the television. Liv hurried over to him. "Grandpa?" The dog followed as well, though staying well away from the feet and cane.

"Turn that up, please, Luv."

The reporter commented, "Your expedition is at the center of a storm of controversy over salvage rights and even ethics. Many are calling you a grave robber."

"Nobody called the recovery of the artifacts from King Tut's tomb grave robbing." Jackson was well prepared for the line of questioning. "I have museum-trained experts here, making sure this stuff is preserved and cataloged properly. Look at this drawing, which was found today..."

After settling on the chair Liv had moved closer to the television, the old man leaned even closer as the drawing was revealed.

"...a piece of paper that's been underwater for 84 years... and my team are able to preserve it intact. Should this have remained unseen at the bottom of the ocean for eternity, when we can see it and enjoy it now...?"

The camera panned slowly across a glass tray with a drawing resting in the clear water and zoomed in. Although the edges had partially disintegrated, the sketch was in excellent condition. The young man with dark curly hair was handsome, many would have said beautiful, and exquisitely rendered. In his late teens or early twenties, he was nude, though posed with a kind of casual modesty. He appeared to be on an Empire divan, in a pool of light that seemed to radiate outward from his eyes. The young man was not entirely nude. At his throat was a glittering chain with one large stone hanging in the center.

 

The old man gasped. The video image was not nearly close enough to read the caption on the bottom of the drawing, but he already knew what was there: 'April 14 1912' and the initials 'VM.' "I'll be God damned."

*****

Peter Jackson supervised the chaotic activity on the deck of the Keldysh as the Mir Subs were being launched. Mir Two bobbed in the water, prepping to submerge any moment. Jackson was about to climb into Mir One when his assistant, Barry Osborne, intercepted him.

"There's a satellite call for you." Barry leaned close but still yelled in order to be heard.

"Barry, we're launching." Peter nodded to the subs. "See these submersibles here going in the water? Take a message."

"No, trust me," Barry gave him a hard look, "you *want* to take this call."

 

Barry gave Jackson the phone and pushed down the blinking line. Still unconvinced, Peter took a long breath. "This is Peter Jackson. What can I do for you, Mr...?" He looked to his assistant.

"Orlando Mortensen," Osborne prompted.

"...Mr. Mortensen?"

"I was just wondering," the old man cleared his throat and continued, "if you had found the 'Heart of the Ocean' yet, Mr. Jackson?"

Shocked, Peter nearly dropped the phone. Barry grinned. "I told you, you wanted to take this call."

"All right." Peter found his voice. "You have my attention, Orlando. Can you tell me who the man in the picture is?"

"Oh, yes." He could hear the amusement in the old man's voice. "The young man in the picture is me."

***

Jackson and Richard Taylor, the technical wizard of the project, watched as Mir Two was swung over the side to start another dive. "He's a goddamned liar! A nutcase," Richard told his boss. "Like that... what's her name? That Anastasia babe."

Osborne hurried over to them. "They're inbound." Jackson nodded and the three of them headed forward to meet the approaching helicopter.

"He says he's Orlando Bloom Hill, right? Orlando Bloom Hill died on the Titanic. At the age of 18. If he'd've lived, he'd be over a hundred now."

"A hundred and two as of last January." Jackson kept his eyes on the horizon looking for the helicopter.

"Okay, so he's a very old goddamned liar." Taylor was not giving an inch. "I traced him as far back as the 20's... he was working as an actor in L.A. An actor. His name was Orlando Bloom Mortensen, or O.B. Mortensen as he was always listed in the credits. He seemed to have worked pretty steady for a few years. Then he married a girl named Alexandra Tyler. He and his new wife moved to Cedar Rapids to run her father's dry goods store. They had two kids. Now the wife's dead, and from what I've heard Cedar Rapids is dead."

"And everybody who knows about the diamond is supposed to be dead... or on this ship." The Sea Stallion approached the ship and the noise forced Jackson to yell over the rotors. "But he knows about it. And I want to hear what he has to say. Got it?"

Jackson, Taylor and Osborne watched as the helicopter bounced once and then settled on the deck. The copter crew chief handed out suitcase after suitcase. Then Orlando was lowered to the deck in a wheelchair by crewmen. Liv ducked, unnecessarily, under the rotors and followed her grandfather carrying a small dog. The crew chief handed a puzzled Keldysh crewmember a goldfish bowl with several fish in it.

Orlando looked impossibly frail and fragile amongst the high tech gear, grungy crew and gigantic equipment.

"S'cuse me, I have to go check our supply of Depends." Taylor escaped below deck.

 

***

Liv unpacked her grandfather's possessions in the small utilitarian room as he carefully arranged a number of photos on the bureau next to the fishbowl.

"Is your stateroom all right?"

Orlando turned and smiled at Peter. "Yes. Very nice." He nodded toward his companion. "Have you met my granddaughter, Liv? She takes care of me."

"Yes. We met just a few minutes ago, Grandpa." The young woman knelt next to the wheelchair. "Remember, up on deck?"

"Oh, yes." Orlando seemed a bit lost for a moment. "That's right." He finished arranging his pictures.

Taylor, standing next to his boss, rolled his eyes.

"There, that's nice. I have to have my pictures when I travel." The old man petted the small dog lying on his lap. "And Maude of course." He smiled down at the dog. "Isn't that right, sweetie." The dog wagged her tail.

"Would you like anything?" Jackson tried to ignore the snickering coming from Taylor.

"I should like to see my drawing."

 

All activity in the lab area came to a halt when Peter entered followed by Liv pushing her grandfather's chair. Orlando leaned forward and looked into the tray, confronting himself across a span of 84 years.

"We're working on the best way to preserve it, to protect it," Richard explained as he watched the old man with the deep brown gaze stare at the drawing.

But Orlando was not seeing the pencil drawing. Instead images flickered before him as he remembered....

......He watched the hand move, holding the pencil....

......The long fingers were smudged with graphite, the nails short and a bit grubby....

......He looked up, just over the edge of the sketch, into the depths of the beautiful blue eyes that held him captive....

 

"Louis the Sixteenth wore a fabulous stone called the Blue Diamond of the Crown, which disappeared in 1792, about the time Louis lost everything from the neck up." Peter gave the reference photo of the necklace to Orlando and Liv studied it over his shoulder. "The theory goes that the crown diamond was chopped too... recut into a heart-like shape... and it became Le Coeur de la Mer. The Heart of the Ocean. Today it would be worth more than the Hope Diamond."

"It was a dreadful, heavy thing." The old man looked at the photo. "I wanted nothing to do with it. It was a symbol of my conscription. It was to be a wedding present for my fiancée...." He glanced at the drawing in the tray. "But..." Again Orlando was lost in his memories. "I wore it this once."

"You actually believe this is you, Grandpa?" Liv was unconvinced.

"It is me, Luv." He flashed her a brilliant smile that seemed to melt away the years. "Wasn't I a dish?"

"I tracked it down through insurance records...." Jackson continued. "An old claim that was settled under terms of absolute secrecy. Do you know who the claimant was, Mr. Mortensen?"

"Someone named Bernard Hill, I should imagine."

"Bernard Bloom Hill the Third, right. Pittsburgh steel tycoon. For a diamond necklace his son, Orlando Bloom Hill, had purchased in France for his fiancée... a week before he sailed on Titanic. And the claim was filed right after the sinking. So the diamond had to've gone down with the ship." Peter was watching the old man's expression closely, but turned toward Liv and pointed to the drawing. "See the date?"

"April 14, 1912," Liv murmured as she studied the drawing again.

"If your grandfather is who he says he is, he wore the diamond the day Titanic sank." Peter crouched near the wheelchair. "And that makes you my new best friend. I will happily compensate you for anything you can tell us that will lead to its recovery."

"I don't want your money, Mr. Jackson." Orlando's eyes flickered to the drawing. "I know how hard it is for people who care greatly for money to give some away."

"You don't want anything?" Peter was surprised and obviously skeptical.

"You may give me this," the old man indicated the drawing, "if anything I tell you is of value."

"Deal." Jackson stood and crossed to a worktable. "Here are a few things we've recovered from your staterooms."

Shrunken in his chair, Orlando could just see over the table. Laid out were various objects from the mundane to the valuable. He carefully lifted a tortoise shell gentlemen's hairbrush. His hand shook slightly as he looked at the handle inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

"This was mine." He set it down. "How extraordinary! It looks the same as the last time I saw it." He reached for a silver and moonstone art-nouveau brooch. "Kathryn... my fiancée, this was her mother's brooch. She wanted to go back for it. Caused quite a fuss."

Orlando picked up a cufflink. Liv could just make out a butterfly exquisitely detailed in gold on the jade. She tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear and looked at her grandfather. He was obviously lost in the memories being stirred to life by artifacts now over eighty years old.

"Are you ready to go back to Titanic?" Liv and Orlando looked up at his question.

***

"...struck in the bottom like an axe, from the impact. Here...," Richard was in his glory as he held center stage. "I can run a simulation we worked up on this monitor over here." Liv turned the chair so her grandfather could more easily see the computer screen. "We've put together the world's largest database on the Titanic." He typed a few more commands. "Okay, here....

"Mr. Mortensen might not want to see this, Richard." Peter was watching the old man carefully.

"No, no." He shook his head. "It's fine. I'm curious."

"She hits the berg on the starboard side...." Richard pointed to the images on screen. "...and it sort of bumps along... punching holes like a morse code... dit dit dit, down the side. Now she's flooding in the...." He points to another monitor with a static image of the ship. "...forward compartments... and the water spills over the tops of the bulkheads, going aft." Everyone seemed enthralled watching the sequence on several monitors around the room. "As her bow is going down, her stern is coming up... slow at first... and then faster and faster until it's lifting all that weight, maybe 20 or 30 thousand tons... out of the water and the hull can't deal... so SKRTTT!!"

The animated great ship snapped in time to his sound. "It splits! Right down to the keel, which acts like a big hinge. Now the bow swings down and the stern falls back level... but the weight of the bow pulls the stern up vertical, and then the bow section detaches, heading for the bottom." The computer-generated sequence was fascinating. "The stern bobs like a cork, floods and goes under about 2:20 a.m. Two hours and forty minutes after the collision."

The simulation continued showing beneath the ocean surface. "The bow pulls out of its dive and planes away, almost a half a mile, before it hits the bottom going maybe 12 miles an hour. KABOOM!" He tapped the screen. "The bow impacts, digging deeply into the bottom." Everyone's attention shifts to the remaining part of the ship. Richard continued his narration. "The stern implodes as it sinks, from the pressure, and rips apart from the force of the current as it falls, landing like a big pile of junk." The screen went to black. "Cool, huh?"

"Thank you for that fine forensic analysis, Mr. Taylor." Orlando was only faintly amused by the man's enamour of the story's technical details. "Of course the experience of it was somewhat less clinical."

"Will you share it with us?" Jackson asked softly, almost afraid to push.

Orlando looked from one monitor to the next as the subs relayed the live video from far below the surface. He stared at a piece of railing to still intact. For a moment he could feel the cold metal of just such a rail as he was pressed against it by the panicked people all around him. A ghostly echo came to him. An officer's voice, English accented, called "Women and children only".

He blinked as he looked at a monitor with the feed from a remote unit that was slowly tracking through a debris filled corridor. A tidbit of waltz seemed to float across time to him. People in fancy dress moved gracefully. Brighter, happier faces laughed in a gathering area below decks. Steerage class passengers celebrated their passage to America and the land of opportunity.

But then he wanted to cover his ears as the pandemonium of screams of terror and cries of pain surrounded him. Tears welled up and he put a hand to his eyes as if to stop the flood of memories. Maude whimpered and looked up at him. His hand shook as he touched her for comfort.

"I'm taking him to rest." Liv moved behind the chair and reached to release the brake.

"No!" He put his hand on his grandchild's hand. His voice was surprisingly strong. The frail ancient man was gone.

"Tell us, Sir." Jackson held his breath. There was a long moment. Everyone was silent, waiting.

"It's been 84 years...."

"Just tell us what you can--" Peter encouraged.

"Do you want to hear this or not, Mr. Jackson?" Orlando lifted an eyebrow at the younger man. "It's been 84 years... and I can still smell the fresh paint. The china had never been used. The sheets had never been slept in."

Jackson switched on a micro-recorder and set it near Orlando.

"Titanic was called the Ship of Dreams. And it was. It really was...." Orlando's voice was clear as the memories returned.

*******

The dock in Southampton, England was filled with hundreds of onlookers and well-wishers as well as the usual chaos of vehicles, horse drawn and motor driven, stacks of crates and luggage, porters, crewmen, cargo handlers and more. April 10, 1912 was a beautiful sunny day for the start of Titanic's maiden voyage.

The car stopped and the liveried driver scurried to open the door directly behind him. He helped a beautiful young woman in a stunning white and purple traveling dress. The rich color enhanced Kathryn Bosworth's natural pale blonde hair stylishly piled under a matching hat.

On the opposite side an impeccably dressed man exited front-seat and turned to open the door for his employer. Orlando took a deep breath before stepping out. Quickly, he moved to the far side of the vehicle and offered his hand to Miranda Bosworth. She nodded her head in acknowledgment of his aid.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about. It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauretania." Kathryn was unimpressed by her first clear view of the ship. She sounded bored. Two maids, personal servants to Kathryn and Miranda, scrambled to retrieve their mistresses's latest purchases and most delicate items, which were deemed too fragile to be left for baggage handlers.

"You can be blase about some things, Kathryn, but not about Titanic." Orlando had many mixed feelings in regards to this trip, but the ship was most definitely built to impress. "It's over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania, and far more luxurious. It has squash courts, a Parisian café... even Turkish baths." He knew without looking that his personal valet, Karl Urban, would handle the rest of the arrangements for their luggage as two more vehicles loaded with trunks pulled to a stop beside them.

"Your daughter is much too hard to impress, Miranda."

The older woman paused as she studied the ocean liner. "So this is the ship they say is unsinkable...."

*

"It was the ship of dreams... to everyone else. To me it was a slave ship, taking me back to America in chains."

*

Orlando looked up the looming bulk of the ship before them and his mask of cultured charm slipped. He glanced to the side at his fiancée and then behind to the stern countenance of his valet. For just a moment, it looked as if he might bolt....

*

"Outwardly I was everything a well educated heir to a steel fortune should be. Inside, I was screaming."

****

Viggo Mortensen exchanged a glance with Shaun Mark as the other two players at the tiny table argued in Swedish. The two men were unaware that Viggo spoke more than enough of the language to understand perfectly the words being exchanged.

"You stupid fishhead. I can't believe you bet our tickets!" Sala glared at his cousin.

"You lost our money," Lawrence growled back. "I'm just trying to get it back. Now shut up and take a card."

"Hit me again, Sala." Viggo took the card and slipped into his hand. His steel blue eyes betrayed nothing. Shaun was obviously worried as he refused a card. He eyed the stack in the middle of the table. There was a motley mix of bills and coins from at least four countries. At the top of the pile sat two Third Class Tickets for passage on RMS Titanic.

They all heard Titanic's whistle blow its final warning.

"The moment of truth, boys," Viggo commented. "Somebody's life's about to change." Shaun put his cards down, followed by the Swedes. Viggo still held his cards. "Let's see... Shaun's got niente. Olaf, you've got squat. Sala, uh oh... two pair... mmm...."

Shaun held his breath as Viggo turned to him. "Sorry, Shaun."

"What sorry? What've you got? You lost my money??!" The Brit's temper was quick to ignite. "You stupid Bloody Yank-"

"Sorry you're not gonna see your mum again for a long time...." With a flourish, the American slapped a full house down on the table. "'Cause you're goin' to America!! Full house boys!"

"What?!!... YEEAAAAA!!!

The table exploded with shouts in several languages. Viggo raked in the money and the tickets. "Sorry boys. Three of a kind and a pair. I'm high and you're dry and...." He grinned and turned to his friend. "We're going to--"

"AMERICA!!!" they yelled in unison.

Sala balled up one huge farmer's fist and slammed it into his cousin's nose. Lawrence toppled backwards to the floor and looked stunned and then depressed. Viggo ignored the Swedes and kissed the tickets before jumping on Shaun's back. They careened around the pub.

"Goin' home... to the land o' the free and the home of the real hot-dogs!" Viggo dropped to the floor and retrieved his cap. "On the TITANIC!! We're ridin' in high style now! We're practically goddamned royalty!!!"

"I'm goin' to America!!" Shaun crowed.

"No, Mate," the pubkeeper corrected. "Titanic's goin' to America. In five minutes."

"Shit!! Come on, Mate!" The two friends scrambled to grab their stuff. "Come on!!" As they ran out the door, Viggo called over his shoulder, "It's been grand."

Viggo and Shaun sprinted toward the pier. Everything they owned in the world was in their kit bags slung on their shoulders. They tore through milling crowds next to the terminal. Complaints followed them as they jostled slow-moving gentlemen. They dodged piles of luggage, and wove through groups of people. The American came to a dead stop when they burst onto the pier. The Titanic towered seven stories above them and was over an eighth of a mile long. It was monstrous.

Shaun turned back and grabbed Viggo's arm. They sprinted toward the third class gangway aft at E deck. Mr. Moody, the Sixth Officer, reached to detach the ramp.

"Wait!!" Viggo yelled as they ran up the ramp. "We're passengers!" Panting, he waved the tickets.

"Have you been through the inspection queue?"

"Of course!" Viggo bluffed. "Anyway, we don't have lice, we're Americans." He glanced at Shaun. "Both of us." Barely twenty-three, Mortensen had the confidence of youth and of someone who had been on their own since the age of 15.

"Right, come aboard." Moody glanced at the tickets and passed Viggo and Shaun to Quartermaster Rowe.

"Gundersen. And..." Rowe frowned as he started to enter the names on his passenger list. "Gundersen?"

"Come on, Sala." Viggo grabbed Shaun's arm. They both whooped for joy as they ran down a freshly painted corridor, grinning from ear to ear. "We are the luckiest sons of bitches in the world!"

Viggo and Shaun burst onto the aft well deck just as the mooring lines dropped away. They ran across the deck to steel stairs and up to the poop deck. At the rail, Viggo yelled and waved to the crowd on the dock.

"You know somebody down there, Mate?" Shaun looked faintly perplexed.

"Of course not." Viggo grinned. "That's not the point." Turning toward the dock, "Goodbye! Goodbye!! I'll miss you!"

"So long!" Shaun joined in his friend's lunacy. "I'll never forget you!!"

An hour or so later, after a bit of exploration and asking directions of a ship's officer, Viggo and Shaun walked down a narrow corridor. They edged around a knot of people arguing in different languages over a pile of luggage. Another group of emigrants studied the signs over the doors, and painstakingly looked up the words in a phrase book.

Finally, they reached the room with numbers matching their tickets. Their berth was in a modest cubicle with four bunks. Exposed pipes overhead were almost masked by the matching white enamel that covered all the surfaces. Two men were already settled on one side of the room. Viggo tossed his bag on upper bunk while Shaun took the other.

"Where is Sala?"

 

The room service waiter poured champagne into a tulip glass of orange juice and presented the Buck's Fizz to Kathryn. She casually sipped the refreshment as she sorted through several crates of recent purchases. "Orlando," she called out to the private promenade deck, "do you wish your... paintings to be unpacked?" It was obvious she was not too enamoured of the works of art.

"I suppose I should." He joined his fiancée in the sitting room. "I will have to put them into storage when we return to Pittsburgh. Father does not tolerate modern art."

"I don't understand your fascination with these artists." She glanced at the name in the corner of a waterlily painting. "Monet?" The painting of dancers. "Degas?" She turned to a cubist portrait that Orlando seemed most fascinated by. "Picasso?...They seem a child's play rather something worth investing in."

"You're wrong. They're fascinating." For a moment, the passionate interest of a young man was revealed. "Like in a dream... there's truth without logic."

"He'll never amount to a thing, trust me." Kathryn was two years older than her fiancé; a fact not often discussed, but sometimes she sounded more like her mother than a young blushing bride-to-be. "At least they were cheap."

A porter wheeled a private safe into the room on a hand truck. "This way." He was directed by Karl. "In the wardrobe, if you please." Orlando was content to allow the valet to finish the unpacking. He returned to the private promenade.

 

"Time to dress for dinner, Darling." He started when she interrupted his private reverie. Kathryn had already dressed. The deep emerald of her gown again enhanced her natural beauty, showing off her pale golden hair and blue eyes.

Orlando knew what she really wanted was for him to allow her to wear her wedding present. After all it was she that had fallen in love with it and had convinced him it was a great investment for their future together. Just as he had allowed himself, at eighteen, to be coerced into the marriage proposal by his father and with a bit of help from Kathryn's own mother. She was a very good catch.

Though to look at him now, he seemed in perfect health and a most eligible bachelor, Orlando had spent much of his childhood under the spectre of illness. At the age of five, he, his twelve year old brother and mother had been stricken with scarlet fever. His brother had died within a matter of days. While Orlando and his mother survived, they were not unaffected. Philippa Hill's heart was so terribly weakened that she had lingered less than a year only to pass away in her sleep.

Orlando was left frail and fragile. His heart and his immune system had been badly compromised and after his father had sent him to numerous specialists, he was sent to live with his widowed Great Aunt, Francis Walsh, in Arizona. It was felt the hot dry air would do him a world of good.

He had been quite happy there. His father only came to see him once on a stopover on a return trip from San Francisco. He had found his aunt to be a kindred spirit. She not only saw that he was well tutored but that his artistic talents were nurtured as well. However, when Aunt Francis had died shortly after his sixteenth birthday, he returned home to find that his father dismissed any notion of his desire to be an artist.

His future was already mapped out. He would marry a girl worthy of his station and he would take over the family business. The merest thought of rebellion was quashed immediately by his father.

"I think," he paused for a moment considering, "the fire opals will look quite grand on you this evening." He smiled despite knowing she was disappointed he had not taken the hint. "Their inner fire of course cannot compete with your own loveliness. You will outshine them."

Kathryn blushed. He could give compliments with the best of them after years of tutoring as a gentleman of class. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the valet watching them, before he turned to lay out Orlando's evening clothes.

 

*

First Officer reported to the Captain. "Twenty-one knots, sir!"

"She's got a bone in her teeth now, eh, Mr. Murdoch." Captain Smith accepted a cup of tea as he watched bow of the ship cut through the waves.

 

Viggo and Shaun had made their way to the bow of the ship. The Titanic had made its final stop before America and moved freely through the open sea. The two men leaned far over, looking down. In the glassy bow-wave two dolphins appeared, under the water, swimming fast just in front of the steel blade of the prow. Viggo watched the dolphins and grinned as they breached the surface only to dive back in as they crisscross in front of the ship.

Staring directly ahead into the sun sparkles, Shaun yelled. "I can see the Statue of Liberty already." He grinned at Viggo. "Very small... of course."

 

"She is the largest moving object ever made by the hand of man in all history...." J. Bruce Ismay, the Managing Director of the White Star Line, was obviously proud of the Titanic. "...and our master shipbuilder, Mr. Andrews here, designed her from the keel plates up.

Orlando, Kathryn, Miranda and Molly Brown turned their attention to the gentleman on Mr. Ismay's right. All around them the Palm Court restaurant was filled with sun from the high arched windows. Waiters moved quickly and efficiently filling everyone's orders.

"Well, I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Ismay's. He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is...." Thomas Andrews slapped the tabletop. "...willed into solid reality.

"Why're ships always bein' called 'she'?" Molly Brown inquired. "Is it because men think half the women around have big sterns and should be weighed in tonnage?" Everyone laughed. "Just another example of the men settin' the rules their way."

The waiter arrived to take their orders. Although Kathryn seemed content to allow Orlando to choose for the two of them, she had pointedly mentioned when they arrived at lunch what had taken her fancy. "We'll both have the lamb. Rare, with a little mint sauce." Though the thought of food held little appeal to him at the moment. Miranda nodded her approval and ordered the same.

"Hey, who came up with the name Titanic?" Molly looked to the Managing Director. "You, Bruce?"

"Yes, actually. I wanted to convey sheer size," he boasted. "And size means stability, luxury... and safety--"

"Do you know of Dr. Freud?" Orlando interjected quietly. "His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you, Mr. Ismay."

Andrews choked on his breadstick, trying to suppress his mirth. Miranda and Kathryn stared hard at Orlando. Molly clearly enjoyed the comment.

A few moments later, Orlando, who suddenly looked quite pale, whispered into Kathryn's ear and she finally nodded. "Please, excuse me." He stood and pushed his chair in. With a slight bow, he left the restaurant.

"What?" Miranda was mystified.

"A sudden migraine," Kathryn explained. "He shall be fine...."

 

Viggo sat on a bench in the sun on the poop deck. Titanic's wake spread out behind him to the horizon. His knees were pulled up and supported a leather bound sketch pad; obviously it was his most valued possession. With conte crayon he drew rapidly, with sure strokes. A three year old girl, leaning against her father as they watched the gulls, came to life under his fingers. Shaun looked over Viggo's shoulder and nodded appreciatively

"That's typical." Elijah, a young Irishman next to them all but spat the words. "First class dogs, " he glared at a crewman that walked three dogs past them, "come down here to take a shite."

"That's so we know where we rank in the scheme of things." Viggo finally looked up from his sketch.

"Like we could forget."

A movement at the aft railing of B deck promenade caught his eye and Viggo looked up to see Orlando standing there, looking the proper gentlemen in his crisp suit. He seemed unable to take his eyes off the young man. They were barely sixty feet apart but it might as well have been a continent such was the rift between the paths of their lives. The younger man stared off into the distant watery horizon.

Viggo watched fascinated as Orlando suddenly closed his eyes, putting a hand to his forehead. He looked to be in pain, yet there was also an air of sadness, of loneliness about the beautiful young man.

Shaun tapped Elijah's shoulder. They both looked at Viggo's gaze locked on Orlando. Shaun and Elijah grinned at each other.

Orlando turned suddenly and looked right at Viggo. He was caught staring, but he did not look away. The younger man did, but then looked back. Their eyes met across the space of the well deck, across the gulf between worlds.

Viggo watched as a man, obviously a butler or some other manservant walked up behind Orlando. The younger man did not appear pleased. They argued as if in pantomime. Finally, Orlando stalked away, closely followed by his servant.

"Forget it, boyo." Elijah shook his head. "His sorts always engaged t'a rich girl from the right side of the town. Even if he's into your sort of fun, the rich want nuthin' t'do wi' the likes o'us unless we're willin' to sell it an' keep quiet."


	2. Chapter 2

Orlando, dressed impeccably for the formal First Class Dining Room, was surrounded by Kathryn, Miranda, Colonel Gracie and his wife and others of equal station. They all chatted amiably as they ate their dinners. But Orlando could not hear them as he stared at his plate. It was untouched, much like he was by babble pressing in on him.

*

"I saw my whole life as if I'd already lived it... an endless parade of meetings, business trips, plant inspections followed by parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches.... Always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. I felt like I was standing at a great precipice, with no one to pull me back, no one who cared... or even noticed."

*

Orlando walked steadily along the corridor. A steward moving the other way greeted him, and he nodded with a slight smile. He seemed perfectly composed. But the cracks were beginning to show, in the over bright eyes, in the too rapid breathing....

He started to run along B deck promenade, slowly at first and then faster. His tie was askew. His face first flushed and then pale. Unnoticed, unacknowledged tears tracked down his cheeks.

Viggo settled on the bench and stared at the stars blazing gloriously overhead. He puffed on his hand rolled cigarette, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs. Startled by the footsteps approaching, he turned to see Orlando run up the stairs from the well deck.

Orlando did not notice Viggo on the bench. He simply ran straight to the fantail railing and stopped next to the flagpole. His breathing was ragged as he panted and held onto the railing to steady himself. He felt light headed and faintly nauseous; though whether it was from the running, the food, the motion of the sea or simply a reaction to his pent up frustrations, he was not certain. For a very long moment, he stared out into the black water as if searching for an answer.

Then with a deep sigh that sounded almost like a whimper, he started to climb over the railing. The climb was clumsy as the leather bottoms of his dress shoes offered no traction on the smooth metal. Moving methodically he turned his body and placed the heels of those fancy shoes on the white-painted gunwale. His back to the railing, he faced out toward blackness. Sixty feet below the massive propellers churned and a ghostly wake trailed off to the horizon.

Orlando leaned out, his arms straightening behind him.... He looked down almost hypnotized, into the vortex below. The only sound, above the rush of water below, was the flutter and snap of the big Union Jack right above him.

"Don't do it."

He whipped his head around at the sound of the voice. It took a second for his eyes to focus. "Stay back! Don't come any closer!"

"Take my hand." Viggo saw the faint tear tracks on the pale cheeks in the glow from the stern running lights. "I'll pull you back in."

"No!" He frowned at the stranger. "Stay where you are. I mean it. I'll let go."

"No you won't."

"What do you mean no I won't?" He could not believe this person dared to judge him. "Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me."

"You would have done it already. Now come on, take my hand."

Orlando felt disoriented. His head had begun to pound. When he tried to press his fingers to his forehead, he almost lost his balance. "You're distracting me. Go away."

"I can't. I'm involved now. If you let go, I have to jump in after you."

"Don't be absurd. You'll be killed." The conversation was becoming more and more surreal.

"I'm a good swimmer." Viggo took off his jacket and started to unlace his left shoe.

"The fall alone would kill you."

"It would hurt. I'm not saying it wouldn't." He took off his left shoe. "To be honest I'm a lot more concerned about the water being so cold."

Orlando looked down. "How cold?"

"Freezing. Maybe a couple degrees over." He unlaced his right shoe. "Ever been to Wisconsin?"

"No." Orlando wondered if he was dreaming.

"Well they have some of the coldest winters around, and I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls." He removed his right shoe off. "Once when I was a kid, me and my father were ice-fishing out on Lake Wissota... ice-fishin's where you chop a hole in the--"

"I know what ice fishing is!"

"Sorry. Just... you don't look like kind of an outdoor sort of guy. Anyway, I went through some thin ice and I'm tellin' ya, water that cold... like that right down there... It hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can't breath, you can't think... least not about anything but the pain."

He moved his shoes off to the side out of the way. "Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in after you. But like I said, I don't see a choice. I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here."

"You're crazy."

"That's what everybody says. But with all due respect, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship." He edged closer as if trying to calm a spooked horse. "Come on. You don't want to do this. Give me your hand."

Orlando stared at the madman for a long time. He looked at his eyes and they somehow suddenly seem to fill the universe. "All right." He reached out one hand to the stranger and it was grasped firmly.

"I'm Viggo Mortensen."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mortensen." Orlando responded automatically and turned carefully to face the ship. But now that he had decided to live the height was terrifying and his vertigo returned. Carefully, he started to climb the railing, but his foot slipped. With a startled yelp, he dropped towards the darkness below.

Viggo's grip held, but he was pulled towards the railing, his sock covered feet sliding on the smooth deck.

"HELP! HELP!!"

"I've got you. I won't let go." He held the younger man's hand with all his strength and braced himself on the railing with the other hand. Orlando could not get any footing on the slippery metal and felt himself falling again and yelled.

Awkwardly, with a strength borne of desperation, Viggo grabbed onto the younger man by whatever he could reach and somehow managed to get him over the railing. They fell together onto the deck in a tangled heap, spinning in such a way that Viggo wound up slightly on top of Orlando.

Quartermaster Rowe slid down the ladder from the docking bridge like it was a fire drill and sprinted across the fantail. "Here, what's all this?!"

Rowe pulled Viggo off of the younger gentlemen, revealing his disheveled appearance. The dress jacket was torn, the white shirt beneath smudged. The younger man's face was bruised and he looked quite pale. He looked at Viggo, the shaggy steerage man with his jacket off, and the first class passenger clearly in distress, and started drawing conclusions. Two seamen joined them.

"Here you, stand back! Don't move an inch!" Rowe turned to the seaman. "Fetch the Master at Arms."

Only a few minutes later, Viggo was being cuffed by the burly Master at Arms. When inormed that something had happened on the aft deck involving young Mr. Hill, Colonel Gracie accompanied the valet to see to the situation. The Colonel, still with his brandy snifter in hand, watched Orlando, who was clearly shaken, being tended to by the ship's doctor.

Karl grabbed Viggo by the lapels. "What made you think you could put your hands on a gentleman such as Mr. Hill?! Look at me, you filth! What did you think you were doing?!"

"Karl, stop! It was an accident." Orlando waved off the ship's doctor who was trying to clean a small scrape on the young man's cheek.

"An accident?!" The valet's disbelief was clear.

"It was... stupid really. I came out here to get some fresh air and I was leaning over and I slipped." Orlando looked at Viggo to get eye contact. "I was leaning way over, to see the... ah... propellers. And I slipped and I would have gone overboard... and Mr. Mortensen here saved me and he almost went over himself."

"You wanted to see the propellers?" At that moment, Kathryn's maid, Janey, arrived carrying an overcoat. She draped the heavy woolen coat over Orlando's shoulders.

"Was that the way of it?" the Master at Arms turned to Viggo.

"Uh huh." Viggo nodded. "That was pretty much it." He looked at Orlando a moment longer. Now they shared a secret.

"Well! The young man's a hero then," the Colonel proclaimed. "Good for you son, well done!" Viggo was uncuffed.

"Let's get you in." Karl held Orlando firmly by the arm and started to escort the younger man inside. "You're freezing."

In a low-pitched voice, the Colonel spoke to Orlando and his valet. "Ah... perhaps a little something for the young man?" Orlando nodded.

"Oh, right," the valet acquiesced. "I think a twenty should do it."

"Is that the going rate for saving the steel baron's heir?"

Karl turned back to Viggo. He appraised him condescendingly. "I know." He smiled, a bit maliciously. "Perhaps you could join Master Hill and his fiancée for dinner tomorrow, to regale the group with your heroic tale?"

"Sure." Viggo looked directly at Orlando. "Count me in."

"Good. It's settled then." The valet gave the heroic savior one last looked. He observed the man as he knelt down to tie his shoes. The older man's eyes narrowed as he took in the detail.

 

He settled under the pile of covers still shivering. Between the hot bath he had just left, the hot toddy prescribed by the ship's doctor along with the feather tick below and down duvet over him, he should have been toasty, but he was not quite warmed through yet. There was a light knock at the door.

"Yes?"

"Begging your pardon, Sir," Janey peeked in. "But Miss Kathryn would like to have a brief word with you if you're feelin' up to it."

Sighing inwardly, he nodded and sat up a bit against the pillows.

"You're looking much better, Darling," Kathryn commented. "I feel somewhat responsible for expecting you to go dinner with us this evening after this afternoon's migraine. Mother and I felt we should allow you more time to recover. So tomorrow you need not worry about us."

"That's not necessary, Kathryn."

"We will entertain ourselves with the many friends we've made on the trip." She plowed right past his response. "And then Karl may tend to you and allow you to properly rest and recover."

He knew he really had little choice. "Thank you, Kathryn. That is most kind and generous of you." Kathryn and her mother were well aware of Orlando's health status, but they had no clue about how he truly felt about his life and where it was headed.

Odd, but when he finally closed his eyes, all he could see was the depths of kindness in his saviour's eyes. That for a brief span as they had talked, he had felt a little less alone.

 

****

"...That night I dreamt of chains of gold, beautiful windows with bars and standing at the edge of a cliff.... I remember at one point holding that necklace.... Even in my dream it was heavy and seemed somehow more malevolent than beautiful...."

"So let me get this right," Taylor interrupted. "You were gonna kill yourself by jumping off the Titanic?" He snickered. "That's great!

"Richard...."

But Orlando was laughing along with Taylor.

"All you had to do was wait two days!" The old man simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"Orlando, tell us more about the diamond. When was the last time you saw it? Where-?" Peter pressed for more useful information.

"I'm afraid I'm feeling a little fatigued, Mr. Jackson." Liv started to wheel her grandfather out.

"Wait!" Peter was desperate. They had investors to appease. "Can you give us something go on here. Like who had access to the safe. What about Karl Urban? The valet. Would he have taken the necklace out of the safe?" But Orlando did not react. He remained slumped in his chair with his eyes closed.

"That's enough." Liv glared at the men in the room before leaving.

 

"Hey, Liv. I need to talk to you for a second." Peter hurried to catch up with Orlando's granddaughter.

"Don't you mean work me?" She finally turned to stare at the man.

"Look," he tried to explain, "I'm running out of time. I need your help."

"I'm not going to help you browbeat my hundred and two year old grandfather. I came down here to tell you to back off." Liv turned to look out on the dark sea surrounding them. He had not seen how suddenly breakable her grandfather had been as she helped him settle in the small cabin. The last time she remembered him looking so very vulnerable was shortly after Grandmother had passed away.

She loved him so very much. When her mother and father had died in a car accident while she was still in high school, Grandpa had taken her in. She had always felt a close bond with him because he encouraged her to pursue her dreams. Like him, she had a talent for the arts, though hers lay more in words as she loved to write; she was driven to write.

When her parents and teachers had first learned of her talent, they had encouraged her to study journalism as they felt it would provide a more viable career goal. But Grandpa had taken her aside a few months before the tragedy that befell her parents and told her to never limit herself. If she wanted to write poems, then she should. If she wanted to write the great American novel, then he would be there cheering for her. Whether she wanted to write up a news story or a children's book, then she should go for it. So she had taken his advice when she left for college. Now she was moderately successful. She contributed articles regularly to Newsweek and Time. Her first book of poetry had sold well enough that her publisher had signed a deal for a second with a possible third volume as follow ups.

And now she was the one that looked after him....

"Liv... you gotta understand something. I've bet it all to find the Heart of the Ocean. I've got all my dough tied up in this thing. My wife even divorced me over this hunt. I need what's locked inside your grandfather's memory." He held out his hand. "You see this? Right here?"

She looked at his hand, palm up. Empty. Cupped, as if around an imaginary shape. "What?"

"That's the shape my hand's gonna be when I hold that thing. You understand?" He looked at her hard, trying to make her understand. "I'm not leaving here without it."

"Look, Peter, he's going to do this his way, in his own time. Don't forget, he contacted you. He's out here for his own reasons." Liv turned back to look at the water. "God knows what they are."

"Maybe he wants to make peace with the past," Jackson suggested.

"What past? He never once, not once, ever said a word about being on the Titanic until two days ago."

"Then we're all meeting your grandfather for the first time." He smiled.

"You think he was really there?" She pulled her jacket close, the night air was quite cool.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm a believer." He nodded. "He was there."

 

***

 

"The next day, Saturday, I remember thinking how the sunlight felt....As if I hadn't felt the sun in years.... It took some patience, but I managed to slip my keeper's notice shortly after lunch...."

*

Viggo drew a quick caricature that caused the little girl, Cara, to giggle. He smiled to himself as he listened to Shaun try to make conversation with a beautiful Norwegian girl.

"A little English?"

"No, no. Norwegian. Only."

Moments later a hush fell in the Steerage general room and he looked up to see Orlando walking towards him. He stood to greet the gentleman.

"Hello, Viggo." They shook hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that both Shaun and Elijah were staring with their mouths open.

"Hello again." He kept his amusement under control.

"Could I speak to you in private?" The young man obviously felt uncomfortable being the centre of attention.

"Uh, yes. Of course." He motioned his visitor ahead and followed. "After you."

Viggo and Orlando walked side by side on the deck. The American was aware of the curious glances cast their way. He felt out of place in his rough clothes.

"So, you got a name by the way?"

"Orlando." The younger man turned toward him. "Orlando Bloom Hill."

"That's quite a moniker. I may hafta get you to write that down." He grinned.

"Mr. Mortensen, I--"

"Viggo."

"Viggo...." Orlando started again. "I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you." Not completely the truth but close.

"Well, here you are."

"Here I am." He could not quite figure out why he felt some sort of pull towards this man he had only met the night before. "I... I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for... for pulling me back. But for your discretion."

"You're welcome. Orlando."

"Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little rich boy. What does he know about misery?"

"That's not what I was thinking," Viggo corrected. "What I was thinking was... what could have happened to hurt this young man so much he though he had no way out."

"I don't.... It wasn't just one thing. It was everything. It was them, it was their whole world. And I was trapped in it, like an insect in amber." He was at a loss for an easy explanation, but a rambling one rushed forth. "I just had to get away... just run and run and run... and then I was at the back rail and there was no more ship... even the Titanic wasn't big enough. Not enough to get away from them. And before I'd really thought about it, I was over the rail. I was so furious. I'll show them. They'll be sorry!"

"Uh huh. They'll be sorry." The older man watched him closely. "'Course you'll be dead."

"Oh, God, I am such an utter fool." He looked down, not wanting to see to look of disgust on his companion's face.

"That gentlemen's gentleman last night, is he one of them?"

"Gentlemen's gentleman?" He frowned. "Oh, Karl! Well he's my father's eyes and ears."

"A fiancée was mentioned?"

"Kathryn. Kathryn Bosworth of Philadelphia and old money. Her father passed away when she was quite young, but her mother, Miranda, took over the family's business and ran it with an iron will and hand. She and my father get along quite famously."

"Then maybe they should marry?" Viggo quirked an eyebrow and they laughed.

"So you feel like you're stuck on a train you can't get off 'cause you're marryin' this girl?"

"Well, mostly...."

"So don't marry her." It sounded easy enough.

"If only it were that simple." The younger man looked away for a moment.

"It is that simple," Viggo insisted.

"If only...." Orlando wanted this man to understand. "Please don't judge me until you've seen my world.

"Well, I guess I will tonight." He grinned.

"What's this?" It was an obvious change of subject by Orlando as his attention was caught by the book in Viggo's hand.

"Just some sketches."

"May I?" But he had already grabbed to book, even as Viggo nodded. Sitting down on a deck chair, Orlando opened the leather bound volume. He was not certain what he was expecting, but what he found surprised him. Viggo's work was captivating. Using only a conte crayon, he managed to bring his subjects to life. Each seemed to have an inner glow that celebrated their lives.

"Viggo," the younger man looked up, "these are quite good! Really, they are."

"Well, they didn't think too much of 'em in Paree." He nearly succeeded in keeping the bitterness and disappointment from coloring his voice. He snapped his wrist, shaking his drawing hand in a flourish. "I just seem to spew 'em out. Besides, they're not worth a damn anyway." For emphasis he tossed away a couple of sketches that were caught by the wind and carried out over the waves.

"You're deranged!" Orlando laughed and turned to another section of pages. "Well, well...."

He had found a series of nudes. Orlando was transfixed by the languid beauty Viggo had conveyed. His nudes were soulful, real with expressive hands and eyes, really more portraits than studies of the human form. They seemed almost uncomfortably intimate and Orlando found himself fighting a blush. "And these were drawn from life?"

"Yup." Viggo sounded almost casual. "That's one of the great things about Paris. Lots of girls, even guys willing take their clothes off."

One drawing in particular caught his eye. A young man, almost too beautiful to be male, was laying half in shadow. His hands were at his chin, one curled and one open like a flower.

"You liked this young man. You used him several times."

"He had beautiful hands." He reached over and turned the pages back to a page of different hands. "The fingers were long, supple but surprisingly strong."

"I think you must have had a... a relationship with him...." He found several other portraits of the same young gentlemen; some just of his hands, some of the whole body and others just of his face.

"No, no! Just with his hands."

"You have a gift, Viggo. You do. You see people." Orlando education had given him a deep appreciation of the arts and seeing these drawings stirred the ache of regret within him.

"I see you." Beautiful steel blue eyes pierced him, it seemed to the soul.

"And...?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"You wouldn'ta jumped."

 

"You know, my dream has always been to just chuck it all and become an artist... living in a garret, poor but free!" Orlando and Viggo strolled aft. Around them people lounged on deck chairs as stewards scurried to serve tea or hot cocoa.

"You wouldn't last two days. There's no hot water, and hardly ever any caviar." Viggo laughed.

"Listen, Mr. Mortensen...." Orlando's dark eyes flashed. "I hate caviar! And I'm tired of everyone dismissing my dreams with a chuckle and a pat on the head."

"I'm sorry. Really... I am," Viggo mollified.

"Well, all right." Orlando took a deep breath, and released the sudden anger and frustration. "There's something in me, Viggo. I feel it. My aunt saw it... I think. I wanted to draw and sculpt. I wanted to create things of beauty. But Father wouldn't hear of it...."

Viggo listened to the young man describe the dreams of his youth. He could not help but be enthralled with the beauty before him. Orlando's hair was dark and full of lustrous curls. His eyes so dark and deep Viggo thought he could drown in them. His skin was pale and flawless. There was an air of genteel nobility about the young man; he was graceful and gracious. Yet except for a few moments of exuberance, such as this, Orlando seemed a lost and bruised soul yearning for a connection....

They continued their conversation as they wandered the seemingly endless decks of the Titanic. For a brief moment, they posed for a man cranking one of the new moving picture cameras and Orlando told Viggo he thought it might be fun to be an actor. Then they moved on to A-deck and leaned on the rail watching the sun begin its descent to the horizon.

"So then what, Mr. Wandering Viggo?"

"Well, then logging got to be too much like work so I went down to Los Angeles to the pier in Santa Monica. That's a swell place. They even have a roller coaster. I sketched portraits there for ten cents a piece."

"A whole ten cents?!"

"Yeah, it was great money...." He was oblivious to the sarcasm. "I could make a dollar a day, sometimes. But only in summer. When it got cold, I decided to go to Paris and see what the real artists were doing."

"Why can't I be like you, Viggo?" Orlando studied the dusk sky. "Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it." He turned to the older man. "Say we'll go there, sometime... to that pier... even if we only ever just talk about it."

"All right, we're going," Viggo joined in. "We'll drink cheap beer and go on the rollercoaster until we throw up and we'll ride horses on the beach... right in the surf.... But you have to ride like a cowboy, none of that English saddle crap."

"I've never ridden before." He had always wanted to. "Can you teach me?"

"Sure. If you like."

"I think I would...." He grinned. "I--"

"Orlando, Darling!" He flinched before turning to see Kathryn, her mother, Molly Brown and the Countess of Rothes heading directly to them. "Karl has been looking everywhere for you. He had left you recuperating. We've all been quite concerned after what happened yesterday."

"I'm fine, Kathryn. I got bored in the suite and thought I'd stretch my legs." He turned towards his companion. "Kathryn, Miranda, may I introduce Viggo Mortensen."

"Charmed, I'm sure." Kathryn studied the older man with an definite air of disdain as Orlando proceeded with the introductions. With the exception of Kathryn and her mother the others at least were gracious and curious about the man who had saved Orlando's life.

"Well, Viggo, it sounds like you're a good man to have around in a sticky spot--" Molly Brown commented. They all jumped as a bugler sounded the meal call right behind them. "Why do they insist on always announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?"

"Shall we go dress, Kathryn?" Orlando ushered his fiancée and her mother ahead of him. "See you at dinner, Viggo," he called over his shoulder. The Countess followed the small group.

"Son," Molly Brown eyed Viggo, "do you have the slightest comprehension of what you're doing?"

"Not really."

"Well, you're about to go into the snake pit. I hope you're ready. What are you planning to wear?" When he looked down at his clothes and shrugged, she shook her head. "I figured."

 

Molly Brown's stateroom was a quite a mess. Men's suits, jackets and formal wear were strewn all over the place. Molly, however, was having a fine time. Viggo was dressed except for his jacket, and she was tying his bow tie. It was hard to believe this was same man from steerage. He was freshly shaven and even his dark blond hair had been neatly trimmed.

"Don't feel bad about it. My husband still can't tie one of these damn things after twenty years. There you go." She surveyed her handiwork and handed him a jacket from the bed. He took the jacket and headed in the bathroom to put it on.

"I gotta buy everything in three sizes 'cause I never know how much he's been eating while I'm away." She folded up some of the clothing and piled them neatly in a steamer trunk. "My, my my... you shine up like a new penny."


	3. Chapter 3

"Good evening, sir." Viggo nodded with just the right degree of disdain.

He was amazed by the opulent splendor. The First Class Grand Staircase swept down six stories with an enormous glass dome above it and a crystal chandelier at its centre. Dressed in the borrowed white-tie dinner attire, no one questioned his presence. Several men nodded a perfunctory greeting as he descended the stairs. He nodded back, keeping it simple.

Before he had a chance to feel too out of place, he turned to see Orlando descending the stairs with Miranda on his arm. Just behind them was Kathryn dressed in red and black seemingly covered in jewels. But Viggo only had eyes for Orlando. The young gentleman did cut a handsome figure in the fancy evening clothes.

Miranda and Kathryn were startled when Orlando paused next to Viggo. It was obvious that neither woman recognized him. "Miranda, surely you recognize, Mr. Mortensen?" The twinkle in the dark eyes conveyed the younger man's amusement over the situation and his appreciation for how good Viggo looked.

"Mr. Mortensen! I didn't recognize you." Miranda eyed the artist coolly. "Amazing! You could almost pass for a gentlemen."

Molly Brown joined their party as they headed to down to dinner. "Ain't nothin' to it, is there, Viggo?"

"Yeah, you just dress like a pallbearer and keep your nose up," he whispered back conspiratorially.

"Remember, the only thing they respect is money, so just act like you've got a lot of it and you're in the club," Molly advised.

As they entered the swirling throng, Molly kept up a running commentary about the notables, but Viggo only listened with half an ear. He was instead far more interested in watching Orlando mingle with his supposed peers. It amazed him how unobservant most people were. Even though he had known the young man for only a short time, he could easily tell that Orlando was only playing a part. The heir to a steel baron's empire was obviously not at all interested in receiving compliments on his fiancée that made Kathryn sound like a prize show horse.

When they were nearly at their table, Mr. and Mrs. Astor joined into them. "J.J., Madeleine, I'd like you to meet Viggo Mortensen." Orlando introduced everyone.

"Good to meet you, Viggo." The older man shook his hand firmly. "Are you of the Boston Mortensens?"

"No, the Chippewa Falls Mortensens actually," Viggo answered truthfully. J.J. nodded as if he had heard of them, but then looked puzzled.

Everyone seemed in good spirits. For just a moment, Orlando thought perhaps the evening would be a pleasant one. It was obvious that Viggo was holding his own in small chat with Molly Brown on one side and the Countess on the other. Amazingly, Orlando actually had an appetite when the waiters arrived and he gave Kathryn's and his own dinner orders.

"Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Mortensen." Orlando felt his heart drop to his stomach; leave it to Miranda to make quite certain that everyone at their table and the surrounding ones were perfectly aware of Viggo's true identity. "I hear they're quite good on this ship." He was almost afraid to look up.

"The best I've seen, Ma'am. Hardly any rats." Orlando looked up to see Viggo's perfectly composed expression. The man turned slightly and looked directly at him and he saw the twinkling in the blue gaze even from across the table. With a small nod of his head, Orlando surreptitiously prompted Viggo to take his napkin off his plate.

"Mr. Mortensen is joining us from third class." Miranda's voice carried clearly. "He was of some assistance to our dear Orlando last evening." Raising a haughty eyebrow, the woman indicated the dish that had just been placed before them. "This is foie gras. It's goose liver."

"How do you take your caviar, sir?" the waiter at his elbow inquired.

"Just a soupcon of lemon." Kathryn stepped in. "It improves the flavor with champagne."

"No caviar for me, thanks." Viggo shook his head to the server, then turned toward Kathryn. "Never did like it much."

Orlando saw the look Viggo sent his way and he bit his lip while waving the waiter at his elbow off.

"And where exactly do you live, Mr. Mortensen?" Miranda had clearly made it her business to portray this interloper from Third Class in as poor a light as possible.

"Well, right now my address is the RMS Titanic," the artist supplied happily. "After that, I'm on God's good humor." The salad course was served and Viggo reached for the fish fork, but a silent exchange with Molly he changed forks.

"You find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?" Disdain dripped from every syllable that Miranda uttered.

"Well... it's a big world, and I want to see it all before I go. My father was always talkin' about goin' to see the ocean. He died in the town he was born in, and never did see it." He wiped his mouth on the corner of his cloth napkin. "You can't wait around because you never know what hand you're going to get dealt next. See, my folks died in a fire when I was fifteen, and I've been on the road since. Somethin' like that teaches you to take life as it comes at you. To make each day count."

"Well said, Viggo." Molly Brown raised her glass in a salute.

"Here, here." Colonel Gracie joined in, raising his glass.

"To making it count." Orlando lifted his glass and looked at Viggo.

"How is it you have the means to travel, Mr. Mortensen?" Miranda was obviously annoyed that Viggo had scored a point.

"I work my way from place to place. Tramp steamers and such. I won my ticket on Titanic here in a lucky hand at poker." He glanced at Orlando. "A very lucky hand."

"All life is a game of luck," the Colonel commented.

"I've always believed that a real man makes his own luck, Colonel." Miranda refused to accept that Viggo had bested her at her own game.

"Mr. Andrews, what are you doing?" Orlando had noticed that Thomas Andrews, sitting next to him, was writing in his notebook, completely ignoring the conversation. "I see you everywhere writing in this little book." He reached for it and glanced at the contents. "Increase number of screws in hat hooks from two to three. You build the biggest ship in the world and this preoccupies you?!"

Andrews smiled sheepishly. "He knows every rivet in her, don't you Thomas?" Mr. Ismay patted the master shipbuilder on the shoulder.

"All three million of them."

"His blood and soul are in the ship." Ismay was clearly as proud of Andrews as he was of the ship they had created together. "She may be mine on paper, but in the eyes of God she belongs to Thomas Andrews."

"Your ship is a wonder, Mr. Andrews," Orlando told him, truthfully. "Truly."

"Thank you, Orlando."

 

Dessert had been served and the waiters came around with large humidors offering cigars to the gentlemen. "Next it'll be brandies in the Smoking Room," Molly Brown commented softly to Viggo as she helped herself to two cigars; one she handed to Viggo and one she put into her purse.

"Well, join me for a brandy, gentlemen?" Colonel Gracie stood from the table.

"Now they retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe." Viggo just smiled and shook his head slightly at Molly's running commentary.

"Joining us, Mortensen? You don't want to stay out here with the women, do you?" Viggo looked over at Orlando and saw the young man did not appear to be moving from his seat just yet.

"Oh, he won't be joining them." Molly followed Viggo's gaze. "For such a fine lad, he apparently was quite frail in his youth." Viggo glanced at her, but she did not appear to be critical, merely sharing the facts as she knew them. "Heavy cigar smoke seems to bother his lungs."

He smiled his thanks to Molly and stood. "No thanks. I'm heading back." He declined the Colonel's invitation.

"Probably best." Miranda smiled malevolently. "It'll be all business and politics, that sort of thing. Wouldn't interest you. Good of you to come." The Colonel and the other gentlemen at the table left, save for Viggo and Orlando.

"Viggo, must you go?" Orlando stood when the other man approached his chair.

"Time for my coach to turn back into a pumpkin." They shook hands and Viggo gave a slight bow to the ladies still seated at the table.

Miranda scowled as she watched the artist walk across the enormous room. She did not care for that man in the least. Some part of her seemed aware that he was somehow a threat to her and her daughter's security. She who had run her family and her husband's business with an iron hand; she just could not work out how this unwanted newcomer fit into the grand scheme of things. Just what was her soon-to-be son-in-law's fascination with the ruffian.

Orlando regained his seat. Under the cover of retrieving his fallen napkin, he read the note Viggo has slipped into his palm. 'Make it count. Meet me at the clock.'

 

A short time later, Orlando crossed the foyer and caught sight of Viggo on the landing above. He was studying the ornate clock with its carved figures of Honor and Glory. Just as it softly stuck the hour, he turned to Orlando coming up the stairs. "Want to go to a real party?"

 

The Third Class General Room was filled with music, laughter and raucous carrying on. The ad hoc band had gathered near the upright piano, blaring lively stomping music on fiddle, accordion and tambourine. People of all ages were dancing, drinking beer and wine, smoking, laughing, even brawling. Elijah handed Orlando a pint of stout and he hoisted it in a toast. Meanwhile Viggo was dancing with one of his favorite portrait subjects, Cora, the five year old girl, or at least he was trying to. She was standing on his feet, giggling madly as they twirled around the dance floor.

Shaun and Helga were moving wildly with everyone else. The dance had obviated the need for a common language. He whirled her around and a moment later she whirled him around. His eyes widened when he realized she was stronger than he. As they passed Orlando, laughing and clapping with the onlookers, they grabbed him and before he realized it he was being swung around as part of a merry threesome.

Moments later, they literally bumped into Viggo and Cora and suddenly Orlando found himself with Viggo's arm around his waist on one side and Cora's small hand in his on the other side. The trio laughed and turned around the floor, at times the little girl's feet left the floor as her dance partners lifted her high. The music finished with in a loud rush. Viggo and Orlando stepped back and with a flourish bowed to Cora who giggled madly. "You're our best girl, Cora." She hugged each man before running off to find her father in the crowd.

Breathing hard, Viggo and Orlando moved to a table. Viggo took a long drag from Shaun's cigarette and grinned at his friend who was holding hand with Helga. "How you two doin'?" he yelled over the music.

"I don't know what she's sayin', she doesn't know what I'm sayin'." The young Brit grinned. "So we're gettin' along just fine."

Elijah brought over a pint for each of them and Orlando chugged his. At the look on his table mates' faces, he raised a dark eyebrow. "You think a first class guy can't drink?"

The dancing has started again and suddenly one of Shaun and Viggo's cabin mates, Bjorn Gunderson, crashed in to Elijah causing him to slosh most of his pint over Orlando's fancy evening clothes. He just laughed it off; he really did not care. But Elijah grabbed Bjorn and wheeled him around. "You clumsy, Oaf!"

Just as Bjorn raised his fists, Viggo leaped between the two men, pushing them apart. "Boys, boys! Did I ever tell you the one about the Swede and the Irishman goin' to the whorehouse?"

Elijah stood for a long moment, all puffed with anger, then suddenly grinned and clapped Bjorn on the shoulder. The big Swede finally smiled back and they all laughed. "Come on then!" The big man grabbed Elijah, Viggo, Orlando and Shaun and pushed them to the centre of the dance floor. "I show you how to dance!" They followed his lead in a boisterous dance that Bjorn swore he had learned as young man that ended with everyone laughing and collapsing in a panting heap.

Viggo gave Orlando a hand to his feet. He noticed the younger man was breathing exceptionally hard and looked overly flushed. He leaned closer to be heard over the noise. "How 'bout we go outside for some fresh air?"

Unseen in the midst of the happy gathering was the door to the well deck that was open a few inches. Karl Urban watched through the gap and saw Orlando and Viggo lean close and laugh. He remained only a few more seconds then closed the door.

 

The stars blazed overhead when they came up on deck. The air was clean and crisp, their breath was just about visible. It did help to clear Orlando's head. He leaned against the railing to admire the view above. "Isn't it magnificent? So grand and endless." Viggo joined him at the railing. They studied the beauty above them.

"They're such small people, Viggo... my crowd." He looked to the side at the artist leaning next to him. "They think they're giants on the earth, but they're not even dust in God's eye. They live inside this little tiny champagne bubble... and someday the bubble's going to burst."

"You're not one of them. There's been a mistake."

"A mistake?" Orlando was perplexed.

"Uh huh." Viggo's quiet certainty touched him. "You got mailed to the wrong address."

"I did, didn't I?" He laughed then pointed suddenly. "Look! A shooting star."

"That was a long one. My father used to say that whenever you saw one, it was a soul going to heaven."

"I like that. Aren't we supposed to wish on it?"

Viggo looked at the younger man. They were so close. It would have been easy to simply reach out and touch the beauty before him. "What would you wish for?"

The silence stretched between them, then Orlando stepped back. "Something I cannot have." He could easily see the sudden pain in those dark eyes. "Goodnight, Viggo.... And thank you." The young man spun on his heel and hurried through the First Class Entrance.

"Orlando!!"

But the door banged shut, and he was gone. Back to his world.

 

Breakfast on the private Promenade should have been a beautiful experience, instead the tension in the air was palpable as Orlando sipped his coffee and avoided looking at Kathryn and Miranda.

"I trust you slept well last night?" Kathryn inquired. Orlando looked up and saw the buried anger in the eyes of both women.

"I did actually." He closed his eyes and wished himself to be anywhere but right there.

"Where did you go after dinner? When mother and I returned to the suite, I wanted to share a story with you and you were no where to be found." Kathryn's eyes were hard like ice when he glanced at her.

"I needed some fresh air and walked the deck."

"Indeed." The ice in her gaze matched the ice in Miranda's voice. "Was there much fresh air to be found in Steerage?"

"I--"

"Your father would never approve of you consorting with the working class," Miranda Bosworth's voice was cutting. "Or in Mr. Mortensen's case, the *non*working class." She leaned towards him and Orlando found himself involuntarily leaning back. "What is wrong with you, Orlando? You should be courting the captains of industry that are traveling with us on the luxurious transport. Instead you seek out the company of a ne'er-do-well vagabond artist and come back to your first class rooms reeking like a brewery. If you plan to step into your father's place in his empire, you had better get your priorities correct or my daughter and I will wash our hands of you. And you will have to answer to your father for your indiscretions!" She stood abruptly upsetting the crystal vase with its single rose. Kathryn and she did not even flinch when it hit the floor and shattered; they simply strode purposefully into the suite.

He sat there for a long time without moving. His eyes fixed on the once beautiful rose now bruised and dying amid the bits of crystal shards. A small sound at the door drew his attention finally and he looked up to see Karl watching him.

 

The First Class Dining Salon hosted the Sunday services. Orlando, Kathryn and Miranda stood in the middle of the group as they sang "Almighty Father Strong To Save," led by Captain Smith. Karl stood well at the back of the room keeping an eye on Orlando. A commotion at the entry doors drew his attention. Viggo had been halted there by two stewards. Once again in his own clothes, hat in hand, he looked very much out of place.

"Look, you, you're not supposed to be in here." The Steward sounded annoyed.

"I was just here last night... don't you remember?" Viggo tried to explain. Then he spotted Karl moving toward them. "He'll tell you."

"Mr. Hill continues to be most appreciative of your assistance. He asked me to give you this in gratitude--" He held out two twenty dollar bills, which Viggo refused.

"I don't want money, I--"

"--and also to remind you that you hold a third class ticket and your presence here is no longer appropriate." Karl nodded to the stewards.

"I just need to talk to Orlando for a--" Viggo had finally spotted Orlando and his fiancée in the crowd, but the younger man did not see him. Though Miranda did and did her best to block Orlando's view of the doorway.

"Gentlemen, please see that Mr. Mortensen gets back where he belongs." Karl handed the twenties to the stewards. "And that he stays there."

"Yes sir!" The two men tightened their grip on the artist. "Come along you."

 

Who better to give a ship's tour than the ship builder. Thomas Andrews truly enjoyed himself as he led a small group of First Class Passengers on the grand tour. "...next stop will be bridge. This way, please." Orlando, Kathryn, Miranda and several others followed him. Orlando did find it to be fascinating, but most of the ladies were clearly not as enthusiastic, though they did have their polite expressions locked in place.

 

Viggo walked up the steps to B Deck. He paused only long enough to nod at Shaun and Elijah who followed closely behind him as he stepped over the gate separating third class from second class.

"He's a handsome bloke and charmer there's no denyin'. But he's in another world, Vig, forget him. He's closed the door." Elijah tried to reason with the American.

"It was *them*, not him." Viggo moved furtively to the wall below the A-Deck promenade, aft. He looked around quickly. "Ready to go."

Elijah shook his head resignedly and put his hands together, crouching down. Viggo stepped into his hands and was boosted up to the next deck. He scrambled easily over the railing onto the First Class Deck.

"He's not bein' logical, I tell ya."

"Aye, but love isn't logical." Shaun squinted trying to spot their friend above.

Knowing he could not wander the First Class section dressed as he was, Viggo took advantage of a man's preoccupation with his son's toy top. The two were carefully winding the string and neither noticed when Viggo emerged briefly from the shadows of a deck crane and helped himself to the other man's hat and overcoat. He slipped into the coat as he walked away and with his hair slicked back and the hat at a jaunty angle he could easily pass for a gentleman, at least from a distance.

 

Andrews led the group from the bridge along the boat deck.

"Mr. Andrews, I did the sum in my head, and with the number of lifeboats times the capacity you mentioned...." Orlando looked a bit sheepish, but carried on. "Forgive me, but it seems that there are not enough for everyone aboard."

"About half, actually," the master shipbuilder admitted. "Orlando, you miss nothing, do you? In fact, I put in these new type davits, which can take an extra row of boats here." He gestured along the deck. "But it was thought... by some... that the deck would look too cluttered. So I was over-ruled."

"Waste of deck space as it is, on an unsinkable ship!" Colonel Gracie slapped the side of the ship.

"Sleep soundly. I have built you a good ship, strong and true," Andrews assured the group. "She's all the lifeboat you need."

The group passed Boat 7 and Orlando stepped closer to examine the special davits that Andrews had mentioned. Just as he was about to rejoin the others, a gentleman turned from the rail and tapped Orlando's arm. The younger man gaped at him, but nodded when Viggo motioned for him to follow. He cut away from the group and ducked through the door the artist held open.

Viggo closed the door and glanced through the rippled glass to the starboard rail where the gym instructor could be seen chatting up a young woman riding the stationary bike. They were alone in the room.

"Viggo, this is impossible. I can't see you." Orlando prayed that Kathryn and Miranda would not grow suspicious over his absence.

"Orlando, you're no picnic...." The artist took him by the shoulders. "You're a spoiled little brat even, but under that you're a strong, pure heart, and you're the most amazingly astounding person I've ever known and--"

"Viggo, I--"

"No wait," he interrupted. "Let me try to get this out. You're amazing... and I know I have nothing to offer you, Orlando. I know that. But I'm involved now. You jump, I jump, remember? I can't turn away without knowin' that you're goin' to be all right."

"You're making this very hard." Orlando felt his throat tighten. Viggo was so open and real... not like anyone he had ever known. "I'll be fine. Really."

"I don't think so." He looked directly into the beautiful dark brown eyes. "They've got you in a glass jar like some butterfly, and you're goin' to die if you don't break out. Maybe not right away, 'cause you're strong. But sooner or later the fire in you is goin' to go out."

"It's not up to you to save me, Viggo."

"You're right." He tried to read the emotions in those eyes. "Only you can do that."

"I have to get back, they'll miss me." Orlando had to get away. His resolve was not that strong. If he waited.... "Please, Vig, for both our sakes, leave me alone."

 

Afternoon Tea had been served and the men were sitting in the First Class Smoking Lounge discussing business over cups of strong hot tea and coffee splashed with brandy. Fortunately, only a few were puffing on expensive cigars. Orlando was off to one side, politely nodding to the gentleman next to him as he described his latest hunting trip. But in his head he was far away... years away....

....."Yes, Father." A very young boy stood looking down at his shoes. "I am sorry, Father...." Most of his memories as a young boy with his father involved being called upon to apologize for something his father strongly disapproved of. Or of being told to sit still and be silent while adults discussed terribly boring things....

 

An English nobleman, whose name Orlando could not immediately recall, sat near him. The man pulled out huge pipe, proceeded to prepare it and worked quite diligently on getting it light properly.

.....Although he had still been mourning the loss of his mother and brother, going to live with his great aunt had been a blessing. She still expected him to be a gentlemen and to learn all the tutor had to offer, but she was pleased when he showed an interest in the creative side of life. In fact, she had told him that he was the only one she felt deserved to inherit her estate. She must have known he would not be happy stepping back in to the life path his father had planned for him, for shortly before her death she had confided in him that while her estate would go to him, it would be done so in such away that only he would be aware of the details....

 

His eyes watered as the smoke drifted past him, but the sudden coughing fit caught him by surprise. He did not have a chance to set his cup down and when the fit had passed, he looked down to a spreading tea stain on his trousers. Blotting ineffectually with his napkin, he stood. "If you'll excuse me."

 

Dusk was approaching and Viggo stood at the apex of the bow railing staring the beauty of the sky and water. This was something he wanted to add to the memories of this amazing trip. He did not want to just have the memories of the beautiful young man who remained just out of his reach....

"Hello, Viggo." For just a moment he thought he was hearing things, but then he turned to find Orlando standing there. "I changed my mind." He cannot help but stare at the wonder of the younger man. Orlando's dark curls blow wildly in the cold air that had redden his cheeks. But his eyes were sparkling. "Shaun said you might be up--"

"Sssshh. Come here." He put his hands around the younger man's waist, as if he were going to kiss him. "Close your eyes." Orlando closed his eyes and Viggo turned him to face forward, the direction the ship was heading. Viggo pressed him gently to the rail, standing right behind him. Then he took the younger man's hands and lifted them with his arms outstretched on each side.

"Okay. Open them."

Orlando gasped. There was nothing in his field of vision but water. It was as if there were no ship under them at all, just the two of them soaring. "I'm flying!" He leaned forward, arching his back. Viggo put his hands on the slim waist to steady him.

Orlando closed his eyes, feeling weightless far above the sea. He smiled dreamily then leaned back, gently pressing his back against the artist's chest. Viggo pushed forward slightly against him. Slowly he raised his hands and their hands met. First fingertips touched, then fingers intertwined.

Viggo tipped his face forward into windblown curls, letting the scent of Orlando wash over him, until his cheek rested against the younger man's ear. Orlando turned his head until his lips were near the artist's. He lowered his arms and turned until their mouths met. Viggo wrapped his arms around him and they kissed. Orlando surrendered to him, to the emotion, to the inevitable.

The kiss seemed endless.

High above in the Crow's Nest, Frederick Fleet nudged his crewmate and pointed below to the figures at the bow. Ronald Lee squinted, "Wish I had those bleedin' binoculars."

*****

Orlando blinked seemingly only just now returning to the present. On the screen before them was the ruined bow of the ship in the deep abyss below. "That was the last time Titanic ever saw daylight."

Peter changed the tape in the micro-cassette recorder. Barry shook his head as if to clear it. "We're up to dusk on the night of the sinking. Six hours to go."

"Don't you love it?" Richard all but sneered. "There's Smith, he's standing there with the iceberg warning in his fucking hand..." He looked to Liv. "Excuse me... in his hand, and he's ordering more speed."

"Twenty-six years of experience working against him," Peter commented. "He figures anything big enough to sink the ship they're going to see in time to turn. But the ship's too big with too small a rudder... it can't corner worth shit. Everything he knows is wrong...."

But Orlando did not hear their comments, he watched the monitor as it showed the ruins of Suite B-52/56....

 

*****

Viggo was overwhelmed by the opulence of the room. He set his sketchbook and drawing materials on the marble table and simply stared at everything.

"Will this light do?" Orlando turned on another lamp. "Don't artists need good light?"

"Zat is true, I am not used to working in such 'orreeble conditions." The younger man giggled at the artist's bad French accent.

"Hey... Monet!" Viggo crouched next to the paintings stacked against the wall. "Isn't he great... the use of color? I saw him once... through a hole in this garden fence in Giverny."

Orlando walked into an adjoining walk-in wardrobe closet. He worked the combination to the safe. "Karl insists on lugging this thing everywhere."

"Should we be expecting him anytime soon?"

"Not really." CLUNK! "At this time of day he's in the wireless room. He has piles of reports to send to my father. No doubt this time expressing his concern over my interest in a certain vagabond artist." He opened the safe and looked up to meet Viggo's eyes in the mirror. Reaching in Orlando retrieved the velvet display box, and handed it to the artist.

He nearly dropped it when he peered inside. "What is it? A sapphire?" It glimmered in the light.

"A diamond. A very rare diamond, called the Heart of the Ocean." Viggo gazed at wealth beyond his comprehension. "I want you to draw me like one of your French guys. Wearing this." Orlando removed the necklace from the case. "Wearing only this."

Viggo laid out his pencils precisely, as if they were surgical tools. His sketchbook was open and ready. He looked up when the younger man entered the room wearing a dark silk robe.

"The last thing I want is another picture of me looking like a mannequin for some staid newspaper article about the steel industry." He handed Viggo a dime and stepped back, opening the robe. "As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want." Normally, he would never be so bold, so brazen. But Viggo had given him courage this evening. The blue diamond glittered against the younger man's smooth chest, lying between his dusky nipples.

Viggo looked almost stricken as the robe fell to the floor. For all his worldliness, he suddenly felt completely the country bumpkin. He swallowed hard.

"Tell me when it looks right to you." Orlando posed on the divan, settling like a cat into the perfect position... almost.

"Uh... just bend your left leg a little and...." Viggo directed. "And lower your head. Eyes to me. That's it." He started to sketch and dropped the pencil.

"I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artiste." Orlando stifled a laugh. "I can't imagine Monsieur Monet blushing."

"He does...." He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "...landscapes." He looked over the edge of the sketchpad and their eyes locked. Despite his nervousness, he drew with sure strokes. The drawing that emerged was the best thing he had ever done. Orlando's pose was languid, his hands beautiful, and his eyes radiated an inner energy.

 

*****

"My heart was pounding the whole time. It was the most erotic moment of my life... till then at least." Orlando told his rapt audience. They were enthralled by the story of Orlando and Viggo.

"What, uh...," Richard cleared his throat. "...happened next?"

"You mean," the old man smiled, "did we 'do it'?...Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Taylor."

 

*****

Viggo signed the portrait with Orlando looking over his shoulder. The room was a bit chilly and he wore the robe again. "Date it, Viggo." He watched the artist add 'April 14, 1912'. "I want to always remember this night."

After hastily scribbling a note on ship's stationary, he replaced the diamond in the safe and set the drawing and the note on top of it. The door closed with a resounding clunk!

 

Karl entered from the First Class Lounge and caught Miranda Bosworth's eye. She joined him off to the side. "None of the stewards have seen him."

"This is ridiculous, Mr. Urban." She shook her head, exasperated. "We're on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic. There is nowhere for Orlando to go. Find him."

 

Orlando, fully dressed, returned to the sitting room just as a key scraped in the lock. He took Viggo's hand and led him silently through the bedrooms. Karl entered by the sitting room door.

"Mr. Hill? Sir? Hello?" There was a muffled sound of a door opening and he hurried through the rooms.

Orlando and Viggo exited from of the stateroom. Closing the door as quietly as possible, he then quickly led the way toward the B Deck foyer. Their luck ran out about halfway across the open space. The sitting room door opened and Karl stepped into the corridor. He spotted Orlando and Viggo and hurried after them, not quite running.

"Come on!" Orlando and Viggo broke into a run, surprising the few ladies and gentlemen about the area. They passed the stairs and headed to a bank of elevators. Their hurried entrance into the open car shocked the operator. He stared at them with his mouth open.

"Take us down. Quickly, quickly!" The operator scrambled to comply and Viggo helped him close the steel gate. Karl reached the lift just as it started to descend and he slammed his hand on the steel bars of the gate. Orlando gestured rudely and laughed as his valet disappeared above.

Another lift stopped and the door slammed open as Karl hurried out. He saw the elevator that Orlando and Viggo had been in was now empty and just starting on its way up. He looked around and could see no sign of his quarry.

Viggo and Orlando leaned against the wall in a small access corridor as they laughed. "Pretty tough for a valet, this fella."

"He's an ex-Pinkerton." Orlando explained. "Kathryn's mother recommended him. Father hired him to keep me out of trouble...."

"Kinda like we're doin' right now--" Viggo's expression changed. "Uh oh!" Karl charged towards them from a cross-corridor. They ran around a corner into a blind alley. The only door is one marked 'CREW ONLY'. Viggo flung it open.

The Fan Room was so loud they could not speak. Viggo threw the deadbolt on the door behind them just as Karl slammed against it. Viggo smirked at Orlando and then pointed to a ladder going down, the only way out.

The ladder ended in Boiler Room Five amid the chaos of the roaring furnaces and black figures moving in the smoky glow. They hurried through the fierce heat and into the next room, just as hot. When they reached the relative cool and quiet of another corridor, they paused in the shadows to catch their breath. Viggo wiped the sweat from Orlando's face and pulled him close. They kissed passionately, tongues dancing. Then they hurried down the corridor holding hands.

The cargo hold was deserted when they entered. They laughed as they ran between rows of stacked crates and pallets of cargo. The room was cold compared to the dripping heat of the boiler rooms and Orlando shivered and pulled his coat closed. They reached a pallet with a brand new Renault touring car. The deep burgundy color, set off by the brass trim and headlamps, made it seem like a fairy tale coach.

Orlando climbed into the plushly upholstered back seat, acting very royal. He shook his head over the cut crystal bud vases on the walls each containing a rose. Viggo hopped into the driver's seat admiring the wood and leather. "Where to, Sir?"

"To the stars." Orlando was not to be denied. He pulled the artist over the seat into the back. They ended up with Viggo lying slightly atop the younger man.

"Are you nervous?"

"A little...." He knew he was blushing furiously. "I've never...."

"Been with a man?" Viggo supplied and he tenderly brushed the younger man's face.

"Been with *anyone*." He was embarrassed. Most men of his station had experience well before they came of age because it was expected. He thought his face must be glowing with all the blood rushing there. Fingers forced his chin up and he felt as if he had fallen into a blue crystal well.

"I love you, Orlando." Viggo's voice was steady and when the younger man looked up the love was plain to see. He kissed the artist's fingers.

"Please touch me, Vig." This time the kiss was searing. This time it was accompanied by hands that worked at release from the clothing that separated them. Orlando lost himself in the moment. Their tongues collided then slid past to explore and taste. He felt the older man's hands moving, the cooler air touching him as his shirt then trousers were finally opened. His felt the blood rush to his cock when fingers touched him, teased him. The kiss ended with them both gasping for air.

"Ohh!..." He gasped when warm lips latched on to a nipple even as gentle hands pushed his trousers down even farther. He wanted to return the favor. He wanted to undress Viggo. He wanted to see his lover in all his glory, but he could not seem to gather enough wit to make his hands do anything but hold on tightly to the man above him.

When the lips moved to his other nipple and lightly bit it, he saw stars and wondered if the world had moved. When he finally opened his eyes again, he realized that Viggo had shifted enough to remove his own clothes and to remove the rest of Orlando's as well. He reached up and touched the man gazing down adoringly at him. He had of course seen other men naked before, but none compared to Viggo. Tight muscles and a very light dusting of hair on the chest, Orlando could think of no one closer to perfection to his eye. And his cock was long and hard as Orlando touched the soft skin covered shaft. He felt the dampness at its head and smiled.

The touch of skin to skin as Viggo settled over him was exquisite. He thought he could remain like this forever and be happy. But there was a growing ache that refused to be ignored. When he shifted, the friction caused him to moan and Viggo joined him. They were kissing again as their fingers explored each other's bodies. Soft moans, loud gasps escaped and soon the windows of the car were covered in foggy condensation.

The sensations continued to build as their bodies moved against each other. He wanted more. He needed more. Reaching up, he held Viggo's head still for a moment. "Vig?" Blue eyes glazed with need and desire blinked at him. "Vig, I want you in me."

"Wha-what?" The artist seemed to have a difficult time forming words.

"In me," he repeated. "I need you in me." He felt his lover's body react to the invitation. Viggo's cock hardened even more, and Orlando was aware of the increasing wetness between them.

"I don't want to hurt you." He saw Viggo swallow hard, attempting to regain some control.

"You won't," he reassured. "I trust you." The artist paused for a long moment, then shifted slightly to the side and he felt a hand between them. His mouth was plundered then as Viggo put all his emotion into the mere joining of mouths. He gasped when fingers were suddenly teasing his entrance.

"Relax, Luv." Viggo's voice was warm and he could not help but whimper when the fingers disappeared for a moment. "This needs to be done slowly...." A fingertip breeched him and he moaned. His arousal lessened a bit, but he knew this was what he wanted.

While he was slowly prepared, kisses were bestowed on his face and neck, his ears were licked and tasted. His nipples were brought to almost painful hardness as that talented tongue licked and teased them. His cock leaked copiously as first one finger, then two stretched him. Three fingers pressed in and he moaned in pain only to see stars again when his body arched violently in reaction to the pressure applied to a certain spot deep inside.

"That's it, Luv." Viggo whispered. Those fingers moved and scissored in his body. It felt so very good. He had never felt like that before. He whimpered at the loss of them, but then his legs were spread and lifted and suddenly felt something larger pressing at his entrance. "Are you sure? We don't have to do this." The artist was still hesitant it seemed. He reached up a slightly shaky hand and pressed his fingers to Viggo's lips.

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life...." He smiled up at the man above him. "I love you, Viggo Mortensen. I love you. Make love to me, Vig. Love me, please...." He could not stop the yelp that escaped when Viggo pushed the head of his cock in. "Ahh!!" It hurt. It burned. But it also felt so right, so good.

He felt the older man's body tremble in his effort to remain motionless, to let Orlando's body adjust. He took a shuddering breath and shifted his ass and more of Viggo's cock pushed into his body. Another shift and somehow the entire length of his lover was in him. It still burned, but the pleasure soon blocked any pain. "Now, Vig. Now...."

Then they were moving in that most primitive of dances. It seemed he had waited his entire life for this moment and he never wanted it to end. Too soon he felt the build up of tension in his own body as well as in the faster, increasingly less coordinated movements of his lover. A hand fisted his cock, and suddenly he was spiraling out of control. He thought he must have screamed Viggo's name, but it was impossible to tell in the height of the moment as he felt his seed spill between them. Scant moments later, Viggo's cock jumped and spurted deep within his body. A feeling of almost dreamy enervation flowed over him as his body relaxed.

Viggo collapsed upon the younger man as the last the spasms passed. He panted like he had run a race and it felt like every muscle was used up. He lay with his head pillowed on Orlando's chest and listened to the younger man's breathing and heartbeat as they slowly returned to a more normal state.

When Orlando shifted beneath him, Viggo moved and his cock slipped free of the tight confinement. "Ohh...." He shifted to the side allowing Orlando's legs to stretch out more comfortably.

"Are you okay?" He lightly touched the back of his fingers to Orlando's face. The younger man's eyes were closed, his dark lashes stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin.

"...hmmmm...."

"I don't think I quite caught that." He saw his love smile and slowly open his eyes.

"I'm better than okay." Those dark eyes that saw into his soul looked at him, filled with love and wonder. "I'm fantastic...."

 

******

The silence was nearly deafening as his audience hardly breathed. Orlando gave a wry smile and chuckled. "Well, I wasn't the first teenager to be seduced in the back of a car and certainly not the last, by several million. He had such fine hands, artist's hands, but strong too... roughened by work. I can remember their touch even now."


	4. Chapter 4

Crewmen Lee and Fleet were once again on duty in the tiny Crow's Nest. They stomped their feet and swung their arms trying to keep warm in the twenty-two knot freezing wind....

 

Below in the blazing heat of the boiler room, stokers pointed in the direction that Viggo and Orlando had fled. Two stewards moved towards the forward holds....

 

Miranda, with Kathryn at her shoulder, stood in front of the open safe and stared at the drawing of Orlando. The expression of cold fury would have caused the most stouthearted to flinch. She passed the note to Karl, who read: 'Now you can keep me locked away where you feel I belong. Under guard. Under Father's fist and Miranda's iron thumb.'

Kathryn grabbed the drawing, to tear it in half, but Karl's hand stopped her. "I have a better idea...."

 

The two stewards entered the forward hold sweeping the beams from their electric torches over the piles and crates. They spotted the Renault with the fogged windows and approach it slowly. As one held his light steady, the other whipped open the door. "Got yer!" They were shocked when the back seat was empty.....

 

Viggo and Orlando, fully dressed, stumbled onto the forward deck through a crewdoor. They could barely stand they were laughing so hard. Wrapped in each other's arms, seemingly unaware of the freezing air as their breath clouds around them, they stood for a long moment.

"When this ship docks, I'm getting off with you." Orlando leaned closer to his lover.

"This is crazy."

"I know." The younger man laughed. "It doesn't make any sense. That's why I trust it." Viggo pulled him closer and they kissed fiercely.

 

From the Crow's Nest high above, Fleet nudged his crewmate. "Cor... look at that, would ya."

"They're a bloody sight warmer than we are," Lee grumbled.

"Well if that's what it takes for us two to get warm," Fleet quirked an eyebrow, "I'd rather not, if it's all the same." They laughed, but seconds later, Fleet expression changed and he did a double take as the color drained from his face. "Bugger me!!" He rang the Look Out Bell three times and picked up the phone to call the Bridge. "Pick up, ya bastard."

 

Sixth Officer Moody moved without haste to answer the call. He picked up the receiver.

"Is someone there?"

"Yes." He all but rolled his eyes. Fleet and his crony had been on and on about needing binoculars while on watch in the Crow's Nest. It was most annoying. "What do you see?"

"Iceberg right ahead!"

"Thank you." He answered automatically, After hanging up, he called to Murdock, "Iceberg right ahead!"

Murdoch looked up and saw it. He yelled to the Quartermaster at the wheel, "Hard a'starboard!" as he rushed to the engine room telegraph and signaled "FULL SPEED ASTERN".

 

The impact threw Shaun from his bunk in steerage and he heard the unearthly squeal of ice on metal.

 

Viggo and Orlando broke their kiss and looked up in astonishment as the berg sailed past, blocking out the sky like a mountain. Fragments broke off, crashed down onto the deck, and they had to jump back to avoid flying chunks of ice.

 

Murdoch rang the watertight door alarm then threw the switch that closed them. He seemed to be in shock, doing things on automatic, unable to quite grasp that he had just run the biggest ship in history into an iceberg on its maiden voyage. "Note the time. Enter it in the log."

Still tucking his shirt in, Captain Smith rushed onto the bridge. "What was that, Mr. Murdoch?"

"An iceberg, sir. I put her hard a' starboard and run the engines full astern, but it was too close. I tried to port around it, but she hi... and I--" He seemed to lose the train of thought.

"Close the emergency doors."

"The doors are closed." Together they rushed out onto the starboard wing, and Murdoch pointed. Smith looked into the darkness aft. He turned to his fourth officer, "Find the Carpenter and get him to sound the ship."

 

In steerage, Shaun stepped out into the hall to see what was going on. Dozens of rats run toward him in the corridor, fleeing the flooding bow. He jumped aside as they ran by. "Bloody hell! This don't look good."

 

Elijah dropped out of his top bunk in the dark and landed in icy cold water. "Cor!! What in hell--?!" He snapped on the light. The floor was covered with three inches of freezing water, and more coming in. Yanking the door open, he stepped into the already flooded corridor and saw Shaun running toward him. Together they started pounding on doors, getting everybody up and out. The alarm spread in several languages.

 

Orlando and Viggo leaned over the starboard rail, trying to view the hull of the ship.

"I don't see anything."

"Could it have damaged the ship?" Trying to see better, Orlando leant farther out, only to have Viggo pull him back.

"It didn't seem like much of a bump."

 

Shaun and Elijah tried to make their way through the crowds the corridors, heading aft away from the flooding. But it was slow going as many of them had suitcase, duffel bags and more jamming the narrow corridors.

"If this is the direction the rats were runnin'," Elijah remarked, "it's good enough for me."

 

Viggo helped Orlando over the locked gate just as Captain Smith, Andrews and Carpenter Hutchinson came down from the bridge. The couple followed the trio as they rushed onwards.

"Can you shore up?" Smith asked.

"Not unless the pumps get ahead." The Carpenter led the way to the Well Deck stairs.

"It's bad." Viggo pitched his voice low so only Orlando could hear.

"We have to tell Kathryn and Miranda."

"Now it's worse."

"Come with me, Vig." He held out his hand to the artist. "I jump, you jump... Right?"

Grabbing the slim fingers, Viggo nodded. "Right." They hurried inside the ship.

 

Karl stepped out from the shadows when Orlando and Viggo passed through the B Deck Foyer. "We've been looking for you, Sir." The way he said 'sir' made it sound the ultimate slur. But Orlando ignored him, pulling Viggo along, as they were intent on their mission to warn his fiancée and her mother. Karl followed close behind and smoothly slipped the necklace into the pocket of Viggo's overcoat.

It was quite the tableau when the two men entered the suite. Miranda and her daughter were in the sitting room in the company of the Master At Arms and two stewards.

"Something serious has happened," Orlando began.

"That's right. Two things dear to my daughter have disappeared this evening. Now that one is back...." Miranda glanced from Orlando to Viggo. "...I have a good idea where to find the other." She nodded to the other men. "Search him."

The Master at Arms steps up to the artist. "Coat off, mate."

The valet tugged at Viggo's coat, as the artist shook his head in confusion and he shrugged out of it. "This is horseshit."

"Miranda, you can't be serious!" Orlando frowned at the woman. "We're in the middle of an emergency and you--"

"Is this it?" Steward Barnes pulled the Heart of the Ocean out of the pocket of Viggo's coat.

"That's it," Kathryn confirmed as both Viggo and Orlando simply gaped, stunned by the discovery.

"Right then. Now don't make a fuss." The Master at Arms handcuffed Viggo.

"Don't you believe it, Orlando." He twisted around trying to see the younger man's face. "Don't!"

"He couldn't have." Orlando sounded suddenly lost.

"Of course he could. Easy enough for a professional." Miranda gloated. "He memorized the combination when you opened the safe."

"But I was with him the whole time," the younger man contradicted.

"Maybe he did it while you were putting your clothes back on," Miranda whispered low so only Orlando could hear.

"They put it in my pocket!"

"It's not even your pocket, son." Karl read the label inside the collar. "Property of A. L. Ryerson".

"That was reported stolen today." The larger man frowned as he accepted the coat from the valet.

"I was going to return it!" Viggo tried to explain. "Orlando--" But the younger man looked pale and devastated. "Orlando, don't listen to them... I didn't do this! You know I didn't! You know it!"

But he turned away as the artist was removed from the suite.

 

The Captain and Mr. Andrews started down the steps to the Mail Sorting Room and were met by clerks scrambling to haul up sacks of wet mail. The water moved up the stairs as they watched. Turning they retraced their steps to the Bridge.

His hands shaking, Thomas Andrews unrolled a big drawing of the ship across the chartroom table. It was a side elevation, showing all the watertight bulkheads. Murdoch and Ismay hovered behind him and the Captain.

"When can we get underway, do you think?" Ismay inquired. The captain glared at the director and turned back to the shipbuilder.

"Water fourteen feet above the keel in ten minutes... in the forepeak... in all three holds... and in boiler room six." Andrews pointed to the compartments.

"That's right."

"Five compartments." His face betrayed his horror at the realization of the truth. "She can stay afloat with the first four compartments breached. But not five. Not five. As she goes down by the head the water will spill over the tops of the bulkheads... at E Deck... from one to the next... back and back. There's no stopping it.

"The pumps," the captain tried to help.

"The pumps buy you time... but minutes only," Andrews corrected. "From this moment, no matter what we do, Titanic will founder."

"But this ship can't sink!" Ismay refused to accept what was being said.

"She is made of iron, sir." Andrews turned to him. "I assure you, she can. And she will. It is a mathematical certainty."

"How much time?" The captain looked beyond horrified.

"An hour, two at most."

 

"I shall go change." Miranda went to her rooms.

"Sodomite!" Kathryn put all her anger into the slap. Her fiancé's teeth clacked together from the force. "You've humiliated me. You've embarrassed my mother... your father!" But Orlando hardly reacted. He sat staring off into space. She grabbed his shoulder and shook it. "Look at me!"

A loud knock at the door interrupted and their steward stepped in without waiting for an answer. "Sorry, Sir, but I've been told to ask you and your party to please put on your life jackets, and come up to the boat deck."

"We're busy." But the steward ignored Kathryn and moved quickly, retrieving the life jackets from the top of the dresser.

"I'm sorry about the inconvenience, Miss Bosworth, Mr. Hill, but it's Captain's orders. Please dress warmly, it's quite cold tonight." He handed each of them a belt. "Not to worry, I'm sure it's just a precaution."

"This is ridiculous." Miranda looked quite affronted when she joined them at the urging of another steward....

Their party arrived at the A Deck Foyer with Janey, the maid, carrying the life jackets. Orlando moved like a sleepwalker.

"It's just the god damned English doing everything by the book," a well-dressed man grumbled.

"There's no need for such language," Miranda admonished. Then turned to her maid. "Trudy, go back and turn the heater on in my room, so it won't be too cold when we get back."

Thomas Andrews entered, looking around the magnificent room, which he knew was doomed. Orlando, standing nearby, saw the man's expression. He hurried over to him and Kathryn followed with her mother in tow.

"I saw the iceberg, Mr. Andrews." The younger man desperately wanted to believe his instincts were wrong. "And I see it in your eyes. Please, tell me the truth."

"The ship will sink."

"You're certain?"

"Yes. In an hour or so... all this...." He swept the area with his eyes. "...will be at the bottom of the Atlantic."

"My God." Miranda found her voice first.

"Please, tell only who you must, I don't want to be responsible for a panic. And get to the boats quickly. Don't wait." He looked directly into Orlando's eyes to convey his true meaning. "You remember what I told you about the boats?"

"Yes, I understand." And he did, and was instantly chilled. "Thank you."

Andrews moved off among the passengers and urged them to put on their life jackets and get to the boats.

 

Karl watched as the Master at Arms as he secured Viggo's handcuffs to the water pipe. Before anything could be said, a crewman rushed. "You're wanted by the Purser, sir. Urgently."

"Go on. I'll keep an eye on him." Urban pulled a pearl handled Colt .45 automatic from under his coat. The Master at Arms nodded and tossed the handcuff key to him as he exited. Karl flipped the key in the air and caught it.

 

The Junior Wireless Operator relayed a message to Captain Smith from the Carpathia. "Carpathia says they're making seventeen knots, full steam for them, Sir."

"And she's the only one who's responding?"

"The only one close, Sir. She says they can be here in four hours."

"Four hours!" The horrific reality of the situation washed over him.

 

Finally up on deck, and nearing the boats, Miranda stopped suddenly. "My brooch, I left my brooch. I must have it!" She turned back to go back inside, but Kathryn took her by the arm.

"No, Mother!" Her grip was surprisingly strong. "You're not going back into the ship."

 

Shaun and Elijah pushed through the crowds. They reached a huge jam gathered at the bottom of the Third Class Stairwell. Shaun spotted Helga with her family. When he reached her, she smiled and hugged him tightly. Elijah pushed to where he could see what was holding up the group. The steel gate at the top of the stairs was closed and several stewards and seaman on the other side are not moving to help.

"Stay calm, please. It's not time to go up to the boats yet."

"What are we doing, Mummy?" A little boy looked up to his mother standing patiently in the crowd.

"We're just waiting, Dear," she reassured him. "When they finish putting First Class people in the boats, they'll be startin' with us, and we'll want to be all ready, won't we?"

 

Viggo sat on a bench near a porthole with his wrists cuffed to the waterpipe as Urban nonchalantly loaded his pistol. When the valet set a .45 bullet on the desk, it rolled across the surface and fell to the floor.

"You know... I believe this ship may sink." He seemed to come to a decision and moved closer to the artist. "I've been asked to give you this small token of our appreciation...." He punched Viggo hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. "Compliments of Miranda and Kathryn Bosworth." He flipped the handcuff key in the air, caught it and put it into his pocket.

 

Oqrlando watched the farewells taking place all around him as they stepped closer to the boat. Husbands said goodbye to wives and children. Lovers and friends parted. Molly Brown worked at getting a reluctant woman aboard a lifeboat. "Come on, you heard the man. Get in the boat, sister."

"Will the lifeboats be seated according to class? I hope they're not too crowded--" The seriousness of the situation had completely escaped Miranda.

"Oh, do shut up!" Orlando lost his patience. "Don't you understand? The water is freezing and there aren't enough boats... not enough by half. Half the people on this ship are going to die."

"Not the better half." Kathryn interjected.

"...You...." Suddenly, it was all very clear what had happened. Orlando looked at the two women and wanted nothing to do with them or anything they represented.

"Come on, Miranda, get in the boat. These are the first class seats right up here. That's it." Molly practically handed her over to the officer in charge.

Orlando stepped back, shaking his head as he watched his former fiancée board. "Goodbye, Kathryn."

He turned quickly and pushed his way through the growing crowd. Finally he made it to the First Class Entrance and pushed through the throng. He could not believe he had ever doubted Viggo.

 

Viggo pulled on the pipe, then he kicked with all his strength. It would not budge. Water gurgled nearby and suddenly water poured under the door rapidly spreading across the floor.

"Shit." He tried to pull one hand out of the cuffs, working until the skin was raw. "Help!! Somebody!! Can anybody hear me?!" There did not seem to be anyone close by. "This could be bad."

 

Thomas Andrews opened stateroom doors as he came to them, checking that people were out. "Anyone in here?"

"Mr. Andrews, thank God!" Orlando ran up, breathless. "Where would the Master at Arms take someone under arrest?!"

"What? You have to get to a boat right away!"

"No! I'll do this with or without your help, Sir." He was not about to turn back. "But without will take longer."

Andrews just stared at him for a moment. "Take the elevator to the very bottom, go left, down the crewman's passage, then make a right."

"Bottom, left, right. I have it," he repeated to himself as he ran to the elevators.

"Hurry, Orlando."

The last Elevator Operator was closing up his lift to leave. "Sorry, Sir, lifts are closed--"

"I'm through with being polite, god dammit!!" Orlando grabbed the man and shoved him into the car. "I may never be polite the rest of my life! Now take me down!!" The operator fumbled to close the gate and started the lift.

The decks moved past them with agonizing slowness, but finally the lift slowed as it approached the lowest level. Suddenly icy water swirled in and Orlando and the operator both gasped in surprise. Somehow he managed to wrench the gate open and splashed out into the corridor. Turning left, he heard the elevator start its journey upward.

"Crew passage," he repeatedly mumbled as he moved towards the marked corridor. The whole section seemed deserted. "Right, right... right." He turned into a cross-corridor. There were doors on each side.

"Viggo?!...VIIIGGOOOOO???!!!"

 

With little hope to succeed, he yanked on the pipe, pulling with all his strength until his face turned red. Finally, he collapsed on the bench, defeated. But he heard a faint sound from the corridor. Straining, he listened. "ORLANDO!! In here!"

"Viggo!" The door was shoved open, creating a small waved that slapped at the far wall. Orlando splashed over to him and wrapped his arms around Viggo. "Vig, Vig... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"That Karl put it in my pocket."

"I know, I know." The younger man cupped Viggo's face and kissed him.

"See if you can find a key for these." The artist jiggled the handcuffs. "Try those drawers. It's a little brass one." Orlando kissed him once more then started ransacking the desk.

"So... how did you find out I didn't do it?"

"I didn't." He yanked out a drawer, tossing the contents to the watery floor and gave a quick glance at the older man. "I just realized I already knew." Quickly, he pulled open more drawers and searched then he moved to cabinet near the door. Outside the porthole, Viggo saw a lifeboat being lowered.

"There's no key in here." Orlando was breathing hard as he looked at the swiftly rising water. The artist had pulled his feet up onto the bench.

"You have to go for help."

"I'll be right back." Orlando looked at his lover and hurried out the door.

"I'll wait here." Viggo looked down at the swirling water as he listened to the younger man splashing down the corridor.

His heavy overcoat threatened to pull him back as he started up the stairwell. Still moving forward, he yanked it off along with the inner jacket and tossed them aside. "Hello? Somebody?!" He turned a corner, only to be shoved roughly aside as a crewman raced past, sending geysers of icy spray all around him. "Help me! We need help!" The man never paused as he raced out of sight.

A horrific bang reverberated through the ship and the lights flickered out. Everything was plunged into complete blackness for several heartbeats then they came back on. Orlando was nearly hyperventilating. Those endless moments of darkness had been terrifying.

A steward came around the nearest corner, his arms loaded with life jackets. Upset to see someone still in his section, he grabbed Orlando forcefully by the arm and pulled him along like a wayward child. "Come on, then, let's get you topside, Sir, that's right."

"Wait. Wait!" He tried to dig his heels in. "I need your help! There's--"

"No need for panic, Sir. Come along!"

"No, let me go!" He tried to pry the man's hand off his arm. "You're going the wrong way!" But the crewman was not listening and he would not let go. "HEY!" He yelled directly into the man's ear. When he turned, Orlando punched him squarely in the nose.

Shocked, the man let go. "To Hell with you!"

"See you there!" The steward ran off holding his bloody nose. But when Orlando turned he saw a glass case with a fire-axe. Grabbing a battered suitcase that floated near, he broke the glass and seized the axe.

The water was up to nearly chest level when he reached the bottom of the stairwell and the corridor leading to Viggo. Plunging forward, he powered through the dark water. He grimaced in pain as the literally freezing water rose around him.

Viggo was standing on the bench hugging the waterpipe when he waded in with the axe. "Will this work?"

"We'll find out." Viggo positioned the chain connecting the cuffs across the steel pipe. The chain was quite short and his wrists were exposed on either side of it. "Try a couple practice swings."

Orlando hefted the axe and it thunked into a wooden cabinet. "Now try to hit the same mark again." He swung hard and blade hit again, four inches above the first mark. The younger man looked stricken. "Okay, that's enough practice."

"You can do it, Luv." Viggo winced and braced himself. Orlando had to hit a target an inch wide with all the force he could muster. "Hit it as hard as you can, I trust you." His voice was amazingly calm. He closed his eyes and did not see Orlando close his as well.

K-WHANG! Orlando gingerly opened his eyes to see Viggo grinning with two separated cuffs. He dropped the axe.

"Nice work, there, Paul Bunyan." The artist dropped down into the water. "Shit! Excuse my French, but... Ow! Ow! OW! That is cold!" He grabbed the younger man's hand and waded towards the hall. "Come on, let's go."

In the corridor, Orlando turned toward the stairs, but Viggo stopped him. There was less than a foot of stairwell visible above the water. "Too deep. We gotta find another way out."

 

Scotland Road, as it was nicknamed, was generally used by the crew and steerage class and ran almost the entire length of the ship. Now it was packed with steerage passengers moving aft away from the rising water. Abruptly, a wooden doorframe splintered and a door burst open under the force of Viggo's kick. He and Orlando stumbled into the corridor.

"Here you!" A steward, who had been directing passengers, marched over to them. "You'll have to pay for that, you know. That's White Star Line property--"

"Shut-up!" they yelled in unison. Viggo led the way past the dumbfounded steward. The way was almost completely blocked at times with large families that were carrying all their luggage.

Soaked to skin, his heavy overcoat and jacket long gone, Orlando found himself shivering hard enough to make his teeth chatter. He wrapped his arms around his torso as the thin dress shirt did little to help.

Viggo glanced at his lover. The younger man's lips were practically blue from the cold. He started to take his own jacket off, but when they past a pile of discarded luggage and bedding, he snagged a blanket and draped it over Orlando's shoulders. The artist rubbed Orlando's arms, trying to warm him as they hurried along. A man who was hurrying next to them offered a flask of whiskey.

"This'll take the chill off."

Orlando could only nod his thanks, his hands shook as he took a large gulp. He gasped and coughed as the fiery liquid made its way to his belly. He handed the flask to Viggo, who followed suit. "Thanks, Mate." He handed the flask back to the man.

Viggo checked the doors on either side as they move along. Everything was locked.

 

Shaun was still standing with Helga Dahl and her family when he heard Viggo's voice. "Shaun! Shaun!" He turned and saw Viggo and Orlando pushing through the crowd. He and Viggo hugged like brothers.

"The boats are all going."

"We gotta get up there or we're gonna be gargling saltwater." Viggo looked around. "Where's Elijah?" The Brit pointed over the heads of the solidly packed crowd to the stairwell. Elijah's hands were on the bars of the steel gate, which blocked the head of the stairwell. The crew had opened the gate a foot or so and a few women were squeezing through.

"Women only. No men. No men!!" The steward tried to keep some order. But many of the crowd did not speak English and began shoving and pushing trying to force their way past the gate. The crew shoved and pushed them back. "Get back! Get back you lot!" The steward turned to the crewmen with him. "Lock it!!"

The crew struggled to get the gate closed again. The second steward brandished a small revolver and another held a fire-axe. Finally, the gate was locked and cry went up from the crowd. People surged forward and pounded on steel gate and shouted in several languages.

"For the love of God, Man," Elijah yelled over the din, "there are children down here! Let us up, so we can have a chance!"

But the crewmen were scared. They had let the situation get out of hand, and now they had a mob. Elijah gave up and pushed his way back through the crowd. "It's hopeless that way," he told Viggo, Shaun and Orlando when he met up with them.

"Well, whatever we're goin' to do...." Viggo looked around. "We better do it fast."

"Everyone... all of you...." Shaun turned to Helga and her family and spoke with lots of hand gestures. "Come with me now. We go to the boats. We go to the boats. Understand?" He prayed they understood him. "Come now!"

But while they did see his urgency, they did not grasp what he was trying to convey. Helga's father, the patriarch of the family, gathered them close to him and shook his head. He would not allow them to be separated.

"Helga... please... please... come with me, I'm lucky." Shaun pleaded. "It is my destiny to go to America." She kissed him, but then stepped back to be with her family.

"Let's go." Viggo touched Shaun's shoulder.

"I'll never forget you," he called back as they hurried down the long corridor.


	5. Chapter 5

CLUNK! Karl Urban reached inside the safe. He took out the Heart of the Ocean and put it into his overcoat pocket. His employer, Mr. Hill, Sr. would reward him handsomely for saving the nearly priceless bauble. He then stuffed several stacks of bills into any available pocket of his overcoat and jacket. He smiled when he closed and locked the safe once again. "A bit of insurance."

 

Every door was securely locked as they desperately searched for a way out. Finally, Elijah pointed down a small side passageway. "Hey, I think there are stairs this way!"

They climbed two decks before coming to a stop. A small group was pressed up against a steel gate. The men yelled at an obviously terrified Steward.

"Go to the main stairwell, with everyone else." The man tried to sound authoritative. "It'll all get sorted out there."

"God damn it to Hell!" Viggo took one look at the scene and finally lost it. "Son of a bitch!!" He grabbed one end of a bench bolted to the floor on the landing. Shaun and Elijah pitched in and the bolts sheered from the stress.

"Move aside!" Orlando yelled to the passengers standing at the gate. "Quickly, move aside!"

Viggo and Elijah ran up the steps with the bench and ram it into the gate. The steel gate ripped loose from its track and barely missed the steward as it fell into the corridor. Led by Viggo, the crowd surged forward.

"If you have any intention of keeping your pathetic job with the White Star Line...." Orlando stepped up to the cowering steward. "I suggest you escort these good people to the boat deck... now." Class won out. The man nodded dumbly and motioned for them to follow.

 

Karl arrived just in time to see Murdoch lowering his last boat. The ship's officer turned from the davits of Boat 15 and started for the bow. The valet hurried to catch up with the man. "Mr. Murdoch, my employer is a businessman of considerable means, as you know, and on his behalf, I have a business proposition for you and Mr. Lightoller."

 

Viggo, Orlando, Shaun and Elijah ran out onto the boat deck from the crewstairs. All the davits were empty. "The boats are gone!" Orlando turned to see Colonel Gracie escorting two first class ladies. "Colonel! Are there any boats left?"

"Yes, young Mr. Hill... there are still a couple of boats all the way forward. This way, I'll lead you!" Viggo grabbed Orlando's hand and they sprinted past the Colonel with Shaun and Elijah close behind. Amazingly, they past by the ship's band that was still playing.

"Music to drown by." Elijah shook his head. "Now I know I'm in First Class."

Lightoller struggled to get people into Boat 2. His pistol was in his hand at this point. "Women and children, please. Women and children only. Step back, sir."

Even with Viggo's arms wrapped around him, Orlando was shivering in the cold. He had lost the blanket somewhere along the way and the frigid night air seemed to cut right through him. They looked on in anguish at the pathos surrounding them. A woman with two young daughters stared into the eyes of her husband. "Goodbye for a little while... only for a little while." He looked to his little girls. "Go with Mummy." They were ushered quickly into a boat. "Hold Mummy's hand and be a good girl. That's right."

A man scribbled a note and handed it to a woman about to board. "Please get this to my wife in DeMoines, Iowa."

Viggo looked to Shaun and Elijah. "You better check out the other side." They nodded and ran off, looking for a way around the deckhouse.

"I-I'm nnnnnot going without you...." Orlando was having trouble standing much less speaking as hypothermia set in. "Beh-bessidess they're nnnnot tahtaking mmmen..." His teeth chattered badly.

"If there's room, you're goin'." Viggo was the only thing keeping Orlando on his feet.

"Yes, you are, Mr. Hill. I've made arrangements. Your father will want you to make it home safe. Get in the boat." Karl's sudden appearance startled Orlando and he collapsed into Viggo's arms.

"What's wrong with him?" The valet seemed more annoyed than truly concerned.

"The cold." Viggo noticed that Orlando had actually seemed to have stopped shivering. "This is not good."

"Here, put this on." Karl, with Viggo's aid, helped the barely conscious younger man into his overcoat.

"Quickly. Step into the boat." Lightoller looked at Urban and gave a slight nod. "Hurry, please!"

"This young man needs help!" Karl scooped Orlando up into his arms. Viggo just nodded. He was not worried about himself at the moment. He would be satisfied just knowing that Orlando would be all right.

Lightoller motioned Urban to board, filling the last spots. "Lower away!" The artist and the valet stared at each other as the boat began to descend.

 

The warmth from Karl's jacket worked to revive Orlando. As his head cleared, he found himself propped upright in the lifeboat. "...vihgg?..." But instead of his beloved Viggo beside him, he saw the malevolent Karl. He looked frantically around and caught sight of Viggo watching from the rail above. "Nnuh... No!"

Finding strength from somewhere, he shoved away from Karl and scrambled over the gunwale. He hurled himself to rail of the A-Deck Promenade. Somehow he caught it and managed to scramble onto the ship. Stunned, Karl was about to try the same feat but the lifeboat hit the water and the window of opportunity was gone.

"No, Orlando! NOOOO!!" Viggo spun away from the rail and sprinted to the nearest way down to the A-Deck. They practically collided in the foyer. "Orlando! Orlando, you're so stupid, you're such an idiot--" But all the while he kissed the young man and held him as close as he could.

"You jump, I jump, right?"

"Right." He led the younger man through the dining salon. Maybe he thought, they could avoid cold for a few minutes longer and the crush of the crowds on the deck above and get to the other side.

 

Shaun and Elijah watched as the crew struggled to move the collapsible boats. They had tried to help, but were waved back at gunpoint by Murdoch. Unfortunately, they were being pushed forward relentlessly by the crowd. As every second passed, the crowd continued to swell and the threat of the boat being rushed was very real.

"Give us a chance to live, you limey bastards!" Elijah yelled. Murdoch fired his Webley twice in the air then pointed it at the crowd. "I'll shoot any man who tries to get past me."

A man next to Elijah rushed forward, and Elijah was shoved from behind. Murdoch shot the first man, then seeing Elijah moving towards him put a bullet into the young man's chest. Shaun grabbed him as he collapsed. Blood flowed out over the deck.

Murdoch turned to his men and saluted smartly. Then he put the pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger....

 

Thomas Andrews stood in front of the grand fireplace of the First Class Smoking Room and stared at the large painting above the mantle. The fire was still going in the fireplace. He failed to react when an ashtray fell to the floor.

Viggo and Orlando started to cut through the room, but Orlando saw him and that his life jacket was lying discarded on a nearby table. "Won't you even make a try for it, Mr. Andrews?"

"I'm sorry that I didn't build you a stronger ship, Orlando." He seemed unaware of a tear that rolled down his cheek.

"It's going fast." Viggo tugged on Orlando's hand. "We've got to keep moving." Andrews picked up his life jacket and handed it to the young man.

"Good luck to you, Orlando.

He clasped the shipbuilder's hand for a moment longer. "And to you, Mr. Andrews." Viggo pulled him away and they ran out the revolving door.

 

The band finished the waltz. Wallace Hartley, the conductor, looked at the orchestra members. "Right, that's it then." They left him, walking forward along the deck. Hartley put his violin to his chin and bowed the first notes of "Nearer My God to Thee". One by one the band members turned, hearing the lonely melody. Without a word they walked back and took their places. They joined in with Hartley, filling out the sound so that it reached all over the ship in the still night.

 

Andrews pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. Opening the face of the mantel clock he adjusted it to the correct time: 2:12 a.m.

 

Shaun removed the life jacket from Elijah's body and struggled to put it on as the water rose around him.

 

Captain Smith, standing near the wheel, watched the black water climb the windows of the enclosed wheelhouse. The windows burst suddenly and a wall of water edged with shards of glass slammed into him. He disappeared in a vortex of foam.

 

Shaun, swimming for his life, got tangled under a davit. The ropes and pulleys dragged him down. Underwater, he struggled to free himself, and then kicked loose. He surfaced, gasping for air in the freezing water.

 

Wallace Hartley saw the water rolling rapidly up the deck toward them. He held the last note of the hymn, and then lowered his violin. "Gentlemen, it has been a privilege playing with you tonight."

 

Viggo and Orlando ran out of the Palm Court into a dense crowd. The artist pushed his way to the rail and looked at the state of the ship. The bridge was under water and there was chaos on the decks. He helped Orlando put his life jacket on as people streamed past, shouting and pushing.

"Okay." He locked onto the younger man's hand. "We keep moving aft. We have to stay on the ship as long as possible." They push their way aft through the panicking crowd.

 

Shaun was drawn up against the grating of a vent as water poured through it. The force of tons of water roaring down the ship trapped him against it, and once again he was dragged down under the. He struggled to free himself. A sudden concussion deep in the bowels of the ship and a blast of hot air ejected Shaun. He surfaced in a roar of foam and kept swimming.

 

Viggo and Orlando clambered over the A-Deck aft rail. Then, using all his strength, he lowered Orlando toward the deck below, holding on with one hand. He dangled then fell. Viggo jumped down behind him.

The stairs were impassible with the mass of people all trying to use them at once. Viggo climbed over the B-Deck railing and helped Orlando over. He lowered the slight young man to the deck below.

 

Shaun was only a few feet away when a funnel collapsed into the water. A huge wave swamped him, but he came up, gasping... still swimming. The water pouring into the funnel became whirlpool, pulling swimmer after swimmer into the depths below. Shaun, nearby, swam like Hell. Somehow he managed to get clear. He was going to live no matter what it took.

 

The ship's tilt was increasing, it seemed exponentially. Viggo and Orlando struggled to climb the well deck stairs. There were hundreds of people already on the poop deck, and more clambered up every second.

Struggling from handhold to handhold, somehow Viggo and Orlando made it to the stern rail, right at the base of the flagpole. They held the rail, jammed in between other people. It was this spot where Viggo pulled Orlando back onto the ship, just two nights... and a lifetime... ago.

Above the wailing and sobbing, Father Byles' voice carried, cracking with emotion."...and I saw new heavens and a new earth. The former heavens and the former earth had passed away and the sea was no longer...."

The lights flickered, threatening to go out. Orlando gripped Viggo as the stern rose into a night sky ablaze with stars.

"...I also saw a new Jerusalem, the holy city coming down out of heaven from God, beautiful as a bride prepared to meet her husband. I heard a loud voice from the throne ring out this is God's dwelling among men. He shall dwell with them and they shall be his people and He shall be their God who is always with them...."

Orlando stared about them at the faces of the doomed.

"...He shall wipe every tear from their eyes. And there shall be no more death or mourning, crying out or pain, for the former world has passed away.

 

Kathryn and Miranda stared speechless at the horrific spectacle of the dying ship.

"God Almighty," Molly Brown whispered next to them.

 

The great liner's lights flickered, but came back on. Then the inevitable, the lights went out all over the ship. Titanic was a vast black silhouette against the stars.

Fires, explosions and sparks lit the yawning chasm as the hull split down through nine decks to the keel. The sea poured into the gaping wound--

The stern half of the ship, almost four hundred feet long, seemed to pause momentarily then fell quickly back toward the water. On the poop deck, everyone screamed as they plummeted.

Viggo and Orlando struggled to hold onto the stern rail. Then the ship seemed to right itself. Some of those praying thought it was salvation. "We're saved!"

Viggo looked at Orlando and shook his head grimly.

It seemed only seconds later, that the stern began its upward ascent once again. This time its rise was much more rapid as the flooded bow pulled relentlessly downward on the still attached stern.

"We have to move!" Viggo climbed over the rail and helped Orlando over as well. "Come on! I've got you!" Just as he joined the artist, the railing had gone horizontal with the deck now vertical. The stern was straight up in the air... a rumbling black monolith standing against the stars. It hung there like that for a long grace note, its momentary buoyancy stable.

Those that had not managed to climb over the railing were falling one by one along the vertical face of the poop deck. Some bounced horribly off benches and ventilators. It seemed to go quiet, as if they were suspended in time, holding their breath....

Then they were rushing towards the dark waters, the plunge gaining momentum.

"Take a deep breath and hold it right before we go into the water!" Viggo yelled quickly. "The ship will suck us down. Kick for the surface and keep kicking. Don't let go of my hand. We're gonna make it, Orlando. Trust me."

The younger man stared at the darkness racing towards them and gripped Viggo's hand harder. "I trust you."

The frothing ocean swallowed them....

 

Orlando and Viggo surfaced in middle of chaos. People were shouting, thrashing, crying... screaming. They barely had time to gasp for air before people were clawing at them. People who were driven insane by the water, four degrees below freezing, a cold so intense it was indistinguishable from death by fire.

A man pushed Orlando under, trying to climb on top of him... senselessly trying to get out of the water, to climb onto anything. Viggo punched him repeatedly, finally pulling Orlando free.

"Swim, Orlando! SWIM!" Somehow they managed to break out of the knot of chaos. Orlando's strokes were not as effective as the artist's. The life jacket hindered his movements, but it was also obvious that the younger man was quickly succumbing to the cold. "Keep swimming. Keep moving. Come on, you can do it."

Viggo stroked rhythmically, the effort keeping him from freezing. "Look for something floating. Some debris... wood... anything."

"It's so cccold." The younger man's voice was growing weaker.

"I know. I know. Help me here." He looked about them, hoping against hope to find something to help. "Look around."

"What's th-that?"

Viggo spied a piece of debris that Orlando was pointing to. They made for it together. It was an intricately carved panel of wood, perhaps a part of a door from the First Class Decks. He had to push Orlando up on to it. But when he tried to climb on, it tilted precariously and submerged partially. Clearly, it would support only one person at a time.

He held on near Orlando keeping his upper body out of the water as best he could. Their breath floated around them as panted from exertion. They floated amid a chorus of the damned. Nearby, Chief Officer Wilde blew on his whistle furiously, knowing the sound would carry over the water for miles.

"The boats will come back for us, Orlando. Hold on just a little longer. They had to row away for the suction and now they'll be coming back," Viggo reassured.

The younger man nodded, his lips were blue and his teeth were chattering. "Vihvigg... We'll tahtake turns." He tried to push himself off the panel. "Yuhyou ccome up hehere." He was shivering uncontrollably and did not have the strength to get into the water.

"I'm all right," he lied. "We'll switch in a bit."

 

Twenty boats, most half full, floated in the darkness. None of them made a move.

 

Viggo and Orlando drifted under the blazing stars. The water was glassy with only the faintest undulating swell. They could actually see the stars reflected on the black mirror of the sea.

"It's geh-getting quiet...."

"Just a few more minutes," the artist tried to encourage. "It'll take them a while to get the boats organized..." But behind Viggo, Orlando saw that Officer Wilde has stopped moving. He was slumped in his life jacket, dead from exposure.

"I don't know about you," Viggo prattled on, "but I intend to write a strongly worded letter to the White Star Line about all this." Orlando tried to laugh, but coughed weakly instead.

"I love you, Viggo." The artist grabbed his hand.

"No... don't say your good-byes, Luv." He stared hard into the younger man's eyes. "Don't you give up. Don't do it."

"I'm so cccold."

"You're going to get out of this...." He rubbed the icy cold fingers with a hand not any warmer. "You're going to go on and you're going to have a life and children and watch them grow and you're going to die an old man, warm in your bed. Not here. Not this night. Do you understand me?"

"I... I can't feel my body....."

"Orlando, listen to me. Listen. Winning that ticket was the best thing that ever happened to me." The intense cold made it hard to draw breath. "It brought me to you. And I'm thankful, Luv. I'm thankful." His voice trembled with the cold. But his eyes were unwavering.

"You must do me this honor...." Orlando's eyes were locked with his lover's. "Promise me you will survive... that you will never give up... no matter what happens... no matter how hopeless... promise me now, and never let go of that promise."

"I promise."

"Never let go." Viggo had to make certain.

"I promise. I will never let go, Viggo. I'll never let go." They held hands and lay with their heads together.

It was quiet except for the lapping of the water....

 

Fifth Officer Lowe, an impetuous young Welshman, had gotten Boats 10, 12 and Collapsible D together with his own Boat 14. A demon of energy, he had everyone hold the boats together and had transferred passengers from 14 into the others to empty his boat for a rescue attempt.

"Right, man the oars."

 

The beam of an electric torch played across the water like a searchlight.

The white life jackets bobbed in the darkness like signposts. The people were dead, but not drowned. The freezing water killed them.

"We waited too long," Officer Lowe whispered in horror.

 

Viggo and Orlando floated in the black water. They were absolutely still. Their hands locked together. Orlando stared at the stars above, not really seeing them. A shooting star streaked across the night sky. As the long sleep stole over him, he felt peace. His dark hair was dusted with frost crystals and his breathing was so shallow it almost seemed non-existent. He looked down from the stars to the water.

A light flickered over him and moved on. He saw the silhouette of boat moving between the frozen corpses.

"Viggo." His voice was barely a rasp when he turned to look at the artist. He touched Viggo's shoulder, but there was no response. Orlando gently turned his face towards him and saw that it was rimmed with frost. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but he was not asleep.

"Oh, Luv." All hope, will and spirit left him. He looked at the boat. It was further away now, the voices fainter. Orlando watched them go. He closed his eyes. He was so weak, and there just seemed to be no reason to even try.

And then... his eyes snapped open.

Orlando raised his head, cracking the ice as his hair pulled from the wood. He called out, but his voice was so weak they could not hear him. The boat was invisible now, the torch light a star impossibly far away. He struggled to draw breath, and called again.

He tried to move and found that his hand was still locked with Viggo's. Carefully, he unclasped their hands. "I won't let go. I promise." He released the artist and Viggo sank into the black water.

Orlando rolled off the floating doorpanel and plunged into the icy water. It felt as if his joints had frozen solid, but somehow he swam to Chief Officer Wilde's body and grabbed his whistle. He blew the whistle with all the remaining strength in his body. The sound cut across the still water.

 

Officer Lowe whipped around at the sound of the whistle. "Row back! That way! Pull!" He turned the tiller.

Orlando kept blowing as the boat came to him. He was still blowing when Lowe took the whistle from his mouth as they hauled him into the boat. Unconsciousness overtook him as the men scrambled to wrap him in blankets....

*****

"Fifteen hundred people went into the sea when Titanic sank from under us. There were twenty boats floating nearby and only one came back. One. Six were saved from the water, myself included. Six out of fifteen hundred."

Liv sniffled as tears wet her face. Peter, Richard, Barry and the others were all silent. For a brief time, they had been on the Titanic in its final hours. For the first time, they truly felt like grave robbers.....

"Afterward, the seven hundred people in the boats had nothing to do but wait... wait to die, wait to live, wait for an absolution which would never come."

*****

 

Kathryn and Miranda held each other, rocking gently.... Karl sipped from a hip flask offered to him by a black-faced stoker....

In Boat 14, Orlando laid swaddled in wool blankets, only his face visible, white as the moon. The man next to him jumped up, pointing and yelling. Soon everyone was looking and shouting excitedly. Lowe lit a green flare and waved it as everyone shouted and cheered.

Orlando did not react; he floated beyond all human emotion.

A gentle rose light washed across the white boats. They floated in a calm sea reflecting the morning sky. All around them, like a flotilla of sailing ships, were icebergs. Carpathia waited nearby, as boats rowed toward her....

 

Orlando came to shivering and coughing. He tried to sit up, but a hand stopped him.

"Just stay still." He looked up to find Shaun Mark smiling sadly. "We're safe and we're on our way to New York."

 

*****

"Shaun became my best friend. We shared an experience that bound us closer than siblings. He took care of me when I developed a fever on the short trip to the docks in New York."

*****

"Orlando." The Brit sounded exasperated as they walked off the ship. "You should've let them take you straight away to hospital."

"No." He was determined. "I started this trip under everyone else's control. I'll damn well end it on my own two feet." The coughing fit caused his knees to buckle and Shaun stepped in to lend a shoulder for support. "Well, mostly on my own...." He gave Shaun a rueful smile.

Immigration officers intercepted them they stepped off the gangway. "Name?"

"Mortensen. Orlando Mortensen."

Shaun looked him for a long moment then answered the questions directed to him.

*****

"Can you exchange one life for another? A caterpillar turns into a butterfly. If a mindless insect can do it, why couldn't I? Was it any more unimaginable than the sinking of the Titanic?"

 

"We never found anything on Viggo. There's no record of him at all." Richard sounded apologetic.

"No, there wouldn't be, would there? And I've never spoken of him until now, not to anyone. Shaun and I never spoke of him either. It was... too painful." Orlando turned to Liv. "Not even your grandmother knew. A heart is a deep ocean of secrets. But now you all know there was a man named Viggo Mortensen and that he saved me, in every way that a person can be saved." He closed his eyes, his voice very quiet. "I don't even have a picture of him. He exists now only in my memory."

 

 

Orlando walked through the shadows of the deck machinery, his pajamas and robe billowing in the wind. His feet were bare and his hands were clutched to his chest, almost as if he were praying. He reached the stern rail and pushed himself up, leaning forward.

 

*****

Shaun helped him into his overcoat when the announcement of the imminent arrival in New York was made. He was so weak; he had to sit down again to catch his breath. Something bunched uncomfortably underneath him. He reached into the coat pocket and encountered a still soggy packet of money.

"I took charge of your coat when they brought you aboard and put you to bed," he told him. "I was quite surprised by what I found in the pockets, but I kept it safe for you." Orlando reached into an inner pocket and pulled out the necklace. The Brit just grinned at him and he closed Orlando's hand over the bauble.

*****

 

"I kept my promise, Vig. I never let go." Orlando held the necklace over the black waters below. "I never gave up." He paused and swallowed hard. "Shaun was there with me, until cancer took him in '67. I did everything we talked about." He smiled. "But I guess you know all that already. I've felt your eyes on me through the years, Luv."

Orlando looked one last time at the priceless necklace in his gnarled hand and smiled as he tossed it into the sea.

 

The interior of Orlando's cabin was warm and quiet. The first picture on the dresser was of Orlando as an actor in California, a theatrically lit publicity shot. A picture of Orlando and Alexandra on their wedding day with Shaun smiling as his best man. Orlando and Alex posed next to their son his college graduation. A 70th Birthday picture of Orlando surrounded by family and friends. Finally there was a photo circa 1920 of Orlando and Shaun sitting on horses at surfline at the Santa Monica pier with the rollercoaster behind them.

He was lying warm in his bunk, still smiling. He was very still.....

 

The blackness receded and he found himself walking down the Grand Staircase. The crowd of beautiful gentlemen and women smiled as he descended. At the bottom, a man turned toward him.

Viggo smiled, those beautiful blue eyes lighting up when he beheld the eighteen-year-old Orlando before him. And then they were in each other's arms and everyone smiled and applauded.....

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Cast**  
>  Leonardo DiCaprio .. Jack Dawson / Viggo Mortensen  
> Kate Winslet .. Rose DeWitt Bukater / Orlando Bloom  
> Billy Zane .. Caledon 'Cal' Hockley / Kate Bosworth  
> Bill Paxton .. Brock Lovett / Peter Jackson  
> Gloria Stuart .. Rose Dawson Calvert (Old Rose)/ Orlando Bloom  
> Frances Fisher .. Ruth DeWitt Bukater / Miranda (Otto)  
> David Warner .. Spicer Lovejoy / Karl Urban  
> Danny Nucci .. Fabrizio De Rossi / Shaun Mark (Sean Bean)  
> Lewis Abernathy .. Lewis Bodine / Richard Taylor  
> Suzy Amis .. Lizzy Calvert / Liv (Tyler)  
> Jason Barry .. Tommy Ryan / Elijah Wood

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author's Note:** I am forced to admit that James Cameron's 'Titanic' did little for me the one time I saw it in the theatre (my apologies to those that love the movie). Brought to life on the screen, the movie did make me start to grasp the enormity of the numbers of lives lost, but I just did not buy the 'eternal love' vibe between Rose and Jack. Sorry. It just didn't work for me. Jump forward about five years - when I read of a plot bunny being discussed in another fandom, immediately my muse decided that surely Orlando and Viggo would make a much more believable pairing. Hopefully, this story succeeds.
> 
>  **Special Thanks:** As always, boundless thanks and gratitude to my PiaP - Gayle - my sounding board, my cheerleading section and my ever efficient, proficient and thorough betareader extraordinaire. She makes my ramblings much more readable and enjoyable. Thanks to Bonnie for giving me her quick 'gut feeling' feedback, early on when I was worried that this little more than a waste of my time.
> 
>  **Feedback:** Anything you wish to say. Flames will be ignored.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely intentional, HOWEVER, we all know this never happened. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work intended purely for the enjoyment of fans of Orlando Bloom and Viggo Mortensen. No monies made.
> 
>  **Original Creation:** March/April 2004


End file.
